A pioneer, she blazed a trail of light
Through murky shadows, with a lithesome tread
Unto those forums, where Hope’s beams are shed:
Straight through the mighty cordon of the night,
Rapt with a vision, soul-born, clear and bright,
Leaving the South of frigid wrong, she sped
Into the North, where hearts glow warm instead,
A people’s tragedy to there recite.
Hope’s liquid pipings lift their tender lay,
Morning is waking, flushed with rosy gleam,
Night with its shadow winds with yesterday
Adown the world-way as an inky stream,
Seed time and harvest deftly interplay,
And Life’s fruition is its vital dream!