Excerpt from Ballads: Patriotic Romantic To deities of gauds and gold, Land of our Fathers, do not bow! But unto those beloved of old Bend thou the brow! Austere they were of front and form; Rigid as iron in their aim; Yet in them pulsed a blood as warm And pure as flame; - Honor, whose foster-child is Truth; Unselfishness in place and plan; Justice, with melting heart of ruth; And Faith in man! Give these thy worship, then no fears Of future foes need fright thy soul! Triumphant thou shall mount the years Toward thy high goal!