... Comforter of experience,

Enlightener of old events,

Beauty forever dares to widen and retrace

Her way, singing the marches of democracy,

Carrying banners of the time to be,

Calling companions to her high command.

There is a banner, Celia, in your hand!

Though sons, whose fathers bled

For freedom, struggle now instead

With heavier weapons and with weary-waking head

For bread;

Though sons, whose fathers fought in other ages

For fame, bear in their hearts today the scar

Of entering where the laborer sleeps

And rousing him with masterly inquiry where he keeps

His wages:

Though all the cunning coil of trade appear a baser thing

Than battles are,

O trace through time the orbit of this troubled star!

... See, from afar off, how the valiant few

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