Its fires sustains—it shines for the oppressed. The vision fades—dome, pinnacle and tower— Yet fades not like the substance of a dream— Nation to Nation, State to State shall seem Drawn to each other closer through its power. 

All the white beauty of the lake-side dream,

The artist's ideal, the poet's theme

Entombs not memory's treasure, and we hold

This truth dear as the miser his loved gold,

Such beauty, passing beauty seen before,

The grace and charm of every clime and shore,

Man's hand the wonder wrought, but soaring high

His spirit, like the bird that cleaves the sky,

The story of the city by the Lake.

And as the waves that on the near sands break

Wearing her crown of glory, shall be seen

Stately and fair, Chicago, Western queen,

Light-skinned or dark-skinned from the West or East.

Peoples unlike, as at a loving feast,

The comity of Nations; this the plan

Of God from time's first dawn, that man with man,

[15]

Man's swiftest fancy in those earlier days!

If, looking far beyond the curving bays

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