The rude log huts of those who tamed the wild,
Rearing from out the forests they had fell’d
The goodly framework of a fairer state;
The builder’s trowel and the settler’s axe
Are seldom wielded by the selfsame hand;
Ours is the harder task, yet not the less
Shall we receive the blessing for our toil
From the choice spirits of the after-time.
The field lies wide before us, where to reap
The easy harvest of a deathless name,