Still Ours The Dance, The

Thou Two-faced Year, Mother Of Change And Fate...

The Little And The Great Are Joined In One By God's Great Force. The Wondrous Golden Sun Is Linked Unto The Glow-worm's Tiny Spark; The Eagle Soars To Heaven In His Flight; And In Those Realms Of Space, All Bathed In Light, Soar None Except The Eagle And The Lark.

Let Our First Care Today Be The Re-establishment Of Our Physical Strength, The Reconstruction Of Our National Organism, So That In Future, Where The Respect Due To Us Cannot Be Won By Entreaty, It May Be Commanded, And Where It Cannot Be Commanded, It May Be Enforced.

No Man Had Ever Heard A Nightingale, When Once A Keen-eyed Naturalist Was Stirred To Study And Define -- What Is A Bird.

Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor, Your Huddled Masses Yearning To Breathe Free, The Wretched Refuse Of Your Teeming Shore, Send These, The Homeless, Tempest-tossed, To Me: I Lift My Lamp Beside The Golden Door.