And full homely is the saying but this story always starts
An answer from ten thousand times ten thousand kindred hearts.
Then let us pray that as the sun shines ever on the sea
Fair Peace forevermore may smile upon the Splendid Three!
May happy France see purple grapes a-glow on all her hills,
And England breast-deep in her corn laugh back the laugh of rills!
May this fair land to which all roads lead as the roads of Rome
Led to th' eternal city's gates still offer Man a home—
A home of peace and plenty, and of freedom and of ease,
With all before him where to choose between the shining seas!
May the war-cries of the Captains yield to happy reapers shouts,
And the clover whiten bastions and the olive shade redoubts!
XV.
THE WAR HORSE DRAWS THE PLOUGH.
At last our Fathers saw the Treaty sealed,
Victory unhelmed her broad, majestic brow,
The Sword became a Sickle in the field,
The war horse drew the plough.
There is a time when men shape for their Land
Its institutions 'mid some tempests' roar,
Just as the waves that thunder on the strand
Shape out and round the shore.