|TO THE UNBORN LEADER|
|You who may come a hundred years After our troubled bones are dust, Far-seeing statesman, born to lead,
And worthiest of the people’s trust,
Turn these few pages in that hour
When by dark doubts you are assailed
Of what it boots to shape their power
Read what we won and where we failed:
|And barb the word with wisdom fit,
And build, oh build, where we but dream:
Expose, undo, repair, extend,
As you, 0 master, best may deem.
But wbatsoe’er of ours you keep, Whatever fades or disappears,
Above all else we send you this
The flaming faith of these first years.