Shook out one flag like fire;

But westward, westward, moved the gleaming goal,

Westward, the vast desire.

[20]Westward and ever westward ran the call,

[20]

They followed the pilgrim sun,

Seeking that land which should enfold them all,

And weld all hearts in one.

Here on this mightier continent apart,

Here on these rolling plains,

Swells the first throb of that immortal heart,

The pulse of those huge veins.

Still, at these towers, our Old-World cities jest,

And neither hear nor see

The brood of gods at that gigantic breast,

The conquering race to be.

Chosen from many—for no sluggard soul

Confronts that night of stars—

The trumpets of the last Republic roll

Far off, an end to wars;

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