On the Departure of the Troops for France

Who are these watching from ancestral doors The instant passing of our youth for France? A mighty pageant of the world's romance Their eyes have seen: it fills their native shores With an undying moment; wide it pours On silent hearts, o'erawed, the voice, the glance, The last, fond gleam of each loved countenance, And the heart trembles, while the spirit soars.

The generations draw immortal breath That breathe a nation's soul. From sire to son The glory of the fathers entereth The children's hearts, and maketh all as one: True to the race breaks out the holy flame, And to all lands doth freedom's blood proclaim.