Prone by the side of a moorland road,
Soothed by the green of the velvet sod;
I dream of the time when war shall cease,
And a weary world will be at peace;
Of a time when the mind of man will recoil
From the lust of gain and from needless toil;
When honour and love will ne'er be sold
For worldly power or the gain of gold;
When man shall arise and cast aside
Corrupting wealth, with its pomp and pride,
And a system that's long been tried in vain,
That breeds the worst in the hearts of men:
When the shadow of want shall be chased away
That darkens the home of the poor to-day,
And the fruits of the earth, at the harvest fall,
Will be gathered and used for the good of all;
When the babe shall be tended and ope' like the flower
That so sweetly blooms in my lady's bower;
And the maimed and the old with the silvery hair
Shall be treated in love with the tenderest care;
When the spirit of brotherhood shall command
From the Arctic Zone to the Coral Strand;
And the flag of freedom will wave on high
On every land beneath the sky.