For What Is Glory But

Methinks I See In My Mind A Noble And Puissant Nation Rousing Herself Like A Strong Man After Sleep, And Shaking Her Invincible Locks; Methinks I See Her As An Eagle Mewing Her Mighty Youth, And Kindling Her Undazzled Eyes At The Full Midday Beam.

Assuredly We Bring Not Innocence Not The World, We Bring Impurity Much Rather: That Which Purifies Us Is Trial, And Trial Is By What Is Contrary.

And Live Like Nature's Bastards, Not Her Sons.

Justice Divine Mends Not Her Slowest Pace For Prayers Or Cries.

Knowledge Cannot Defile, Nor Consequently The Books, If The Will And Conscience Be Not Defiled.