Xvii

My country! To the height of this great thought, With all that in thee is, with all the weight Of thy self-consciousness, though born full late, Upon thee, and thy thronging memories fraught With germinating dreams, still to be brought Unto fruition--chastened, consecrate To the high calling of the Perfect State, Thou must arise, or, failing, come to naught. The Organ of the Highest! pre-ordained To execute the fateful judgment, planned From the Beginning by the Power that deigned First to create in air and sea and land Each thing that breathes and seeks its daily food, And having formed, pronounced Creation good.

HESEPE, 15th July