Forming the great Atlantic, see God take

The mist from woe's white mountain, spring and stream,

The breath of man in frost, the spiral lean

From roof-cracked caves where, though the heart may break,

The soul will not lie torpid, like the snake,—

And battle smoke. On them He breathes with dream

And, Lo! an Angel with a sword agleam

'Twix the Old World and New for Justice's sake.

What sea so broad, as that from Human weeping?

Or Sun so flaming, as the Angel's sword

Of Human and Devine Wills in accord?

There, with sword-flash of myriad waves, joy-leaping,

Shall loom forever, Freedom's watch and ward,

With the New World in his Seraphic keeping.