Lure of the wide expanses, lure of the sunset land, Lure of the sod unbroken, lure of the desert sand; Vision of open spaces, vision of winding stream, Vision of deep-mine riches, vision of harvest's gleam; Challenge to strength's resistance, challenge to heart's desire, Challenge to soul endurance, challenge to secret fire. These were the first antennae Catching the subtle call, Thrilling a mystic fancy, Weaving a future thrall. O you toilers in the vanguard, With your faces to the westward, You who swept the far horizon Undeterred by its remoteness, You unlocked the passive riches And realeased the land's resources, Forged reality from vision, Found life-cadences in labor. Faith for a life's rewarding, faith for a guidon fair, Faith when a dear hope faded, faith for that hour's despair; Hope at the dawn's awaking, hope in the noonday heat, Hope at the day's departing, hope in the night's pulsebeat. These were the trailing loom-ends, Showing the woof and warp, These the insistent life-tones Smiting the human harp. |