THE CALL OF THE COAST by WILLIAM STEWARD GORDON

Let the roar go up from the city!
Let the armies of Greed surge on!
But give me the roar
Of a surf-bound shore,
Where Liberty greets the dawn.

Let the roar go up from the city!
Let them jostle for place and power!
But give me the shade,
Where God has made
The moss in the laurel bower.

Let the roar go up from the city!
Some are wed to the luxuries there,
But wild and free
As a hawk I'd be,
In an emerald forest air.

Let the roar go up from the city!
From a life that is stilted in pain,
Till the glimmer and gleam
Of Society's dream
Shall tremble and break with the strain.

God pity the poor in the city,
Whose hearts on their hinges rust—
Who sigh for the trees
And the ocean breeze
But are chained in the heat and dust.

Let the roar go up from the city!
But soon there shall ascend
A note more clear,
And deep, and dear,
When a man in God shall blend,

And the trailing mists of the morning
Shall usher the gladsome hours,
When human art
With Nature's heart
Shall strew the earth with flowers.

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