A Canticle: Significant of the national exaltation of enthusiasm at the close of the War.

O the precipice Titanic Of the congregated Fall, And the angle oceanic Where the deepening thunders call— 2And the Gorge so grim, 2And the firmamental rim! Multitudinously thronging The waters all converge, Then they sweep adown in sloping Solidity of surge. 4The Nation, in her impulse 5Mysterious as the Tide, 4In emotion like an ocean 5Moves in power, not in pride; 4And is deep in her devotion 5As Humanity is wide. 5Thou Lord of hosts victorious, 6The confluence Thou hast twined; 5By a wondrous way and glorious 6A passage Thou dost find— 6A passage Thou dost find: 5Hosanna to the Lord of hosts, 6The hosts of human kind. Stable in its baselessness When calm is in the air, The Iris half in tracelessness Hovers faintly fair. Fitfully assailing it A wind from heaven blows, Shivering and paling it To blankness of the snows; While, incessant in renewal, The Arch rekindled grows, Till again the gem and jewel Whirl in blinding overthrows— Till, prevailing and transcending, Lo, the Glory perfect there, And the contest finds an ending, For repose is in the air. But the foamy Deep unsounded, And the dim and dizzy ledge, And the booming roar rebounded, And the gull that skims the edge! 2The Giant of the Pool 2Heaves his forehead white as wool— Toward the Iris every climbing From the Cataracts that call— Irremovable vast arras Draping all the Wall. 3The Generations pouring 4From times of endless date, 3In their going, in their flowing 4Ever form the steadfast State; 3And Humanity is growing 4Toward the fullness of her fate. 5Thou Lord of hosts victorious, 6Fulfill the end designed; 5By a wondrous way and glorious 6A passage Thou dost find— 6A passage Thou dost find: 5Hosanna to the Lord of hosts, 6The hosts of human kind.