And yet—O Earth, thank God!—the soul of song
Is as immortal as the eternal stars!
O trembling heart! take courage and be strong.
Hark! to a voice from yonder crystal bars:
_“Did the roses blow last June?
Do the stars still rise and set?
And over the crests of the mountains
Are the light clouds floating yet?
Do the rivers run to the sea
With a deep, resistless flow?
Do the little birds sing north and south
As the seasons come and go?_
_Are the hills as fair as of old?
Are the skies as blue and far?
Have you lost the pomp of the sunset,
Or the light of the evening star?
Has the glory gone from the morning?
Do the wild winds wail no more?
Is there now no thunder of billows
Beating the storm-lashed shore?_
_Is Love a forgotten story?
Is Passion a jester’s theme?
Has Valor thrown down its armor?
Is Honor an idle dream?
Is there no pure trust in woman?
No conquering faith in God?
Are there no feet strong to follow
In the paths the martyrs trod?_
_Did you find no hero graves
When your violets bloomed last May—
Prouder than those of Marathon,
Or ‘old Platea’s day’?
When your red and white and blue
On the free winds fluttered out,
Were there no strong hearts and voices
To receive it with a shout?
Oh! let the Earth grow old!
And the burning stars grow cold!
And, if you will, declare man’s story told!
Yet, pure as faith is pure,
And sure as death is sure,
As long as love shall live, shall song endure!_”