The Fourth of July

LET be the herds and what the harvest brings ;
Give to oblivion all that's sold and bought,
The count of unrememberable things ; —
Our better birthright is this day's report!
Live our sires in us? Keep we their old skill
To know Occasion's whisper and be great?
Can our proud blood in one contagious thrill
Put admiration in the eyes of Fate?
Wide is our realm, and twin seas feel our yoke,
Aye, and the oarless ocean of the North ;—
Are we then mightier than that scattered folk,
That fringe of clingers by the sea-beach froth
Whose loins begat us? Let tomorrow show
If their stern arts hereditary grow.