You, who have conquered the wilderness,
You, who are building the land,
You, whom I knew in the loneliness,
To you, who will understand,
Rhymes I have rhymed of the lonely ways,
Stories I tell o'er again—
Wandering days by the camp-fire's blaze,
Fancy and frolic and pain.
Far in the silence I seem to see
Shadowy forms in the mist,
Moulding the key of a land to be,
Steeled to its terrors resist;
Daring it all, where the shadows fall,
Lengthening far in the night;
Answering ever to nature's call,
Turning the darkness to light.
Many will follow, but you must lead
The way o'er the ancient clay,
Paying the price of a nation's need;
Comrades you leave by the way.
Yet in the future you see a land
Peopled and loved as a home;
Men who will listen and understand
Your work in the great alone.
Many have judged with a judgment stern
Your pleasures, which e'en are few;
Judging, with little desire to learn,
Of trials they never knew.
Yet you have chosen, and who shall say
Your choosing was not aright;
Willing to follow the silent way,
The way of the long, long night.
What will it matter, when comes the call To enter the dim unknown? What will it matter, when, after all, You stand at the Master's throne? Maybe I dream, but I often seem Man's judgment to hear reversed; " I judge by not what you should have been, 'Tis strange you have not been worse. "
So have I dreamed of the long ago,
Songs have I sung to your name;
Little of fancy, to you who know,
The cost of a nation's fame;
Memories dear to the men who roam,
Brothers I knew in the land;
Leaving the judgment to you alone,
To you, who will understand.