"But whether in calm or wrack-wreath, whether by dark or day
I heave them whole to the conger1 or rip their plates away,
First of the scattered legions, under a shrieking sky,
Dipping between the rollers, the English Flag goes by.

"The dead dumb fog hath wrapped it—the frozen dews have kissed-
The morning stars have hailed it, a fellow-star in the mist.
What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my breath to dare,
Ye have but my waves to conquer. Go forth, for it is there!"
(1891)

60

[With this poetic plea for the restriction of immigration to the United States, compare the opposite side as represented in Mr. Schauffler's poem, page 386.]

Wide open and unguarded, stand our
gates,

Named of the four winds, North, South,
East, and West;

Portals that lead to an enchanted land
Of cities, forests, fields of living gold,
Vast prairies, lordly summits touched with

snow,

Majestic rivers sweeping proudly past
The Arab's date-palm and the Norseman's
pine-

A realm wherein are fruits of every zone,
Airs of all climes, for lo! throughout the

year

The red rose blossoms somewhere-a rich

land,

ΤΟ

A later Eden planted in the wilds,
With not an inch of earth within its

bound

But if a slave's foot press it sets him free.
Here, it is written, Toil shall have its

wage,

And Honor honor, and the humblest man
Stand level with the highest in the law.
Of such a land have men in dungeons
dreamed,

And, with the vision brightening in their

eyes,

Gone smiling to the fagot and the sword.

Wide open and unguarded stand our

gates,

20

And through them presses a wild motley

throng