Who loosed our land from Britain's numbing hold?

"They who had naught to loose," the Tories say;

That is—not menials in the King's sure pay,

Nor mongrels, chained to guard their master's gold.

They were True Men. Their spirit, young and bold,

With dreams played follow-master, climbing day

From deepest night, to catch the Sun and stay

His glory for the World, then whiteing cold.

Though darkness be far vaster than the lamp,

It is the beams that lead to progress, count.

"To manhood, with the virtues to surmount

Such darknesses as Valley Forge's camp,

And seas, deep hell's sky-reaching, broadening fount,

Honor!" The ages shout on Triumph's tramp.