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				Title:     A Song Of Republics 
			    
Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox [
More Titles by Wilcox]		                
			    
Fair Freedom's ship, too long adrift -
   Of every wind the sport -
Now rigged and manned, her course well planned,
   Sails proudly out of port;
And fluttering gaily from the mast
   This motto is unfurled,
Let all men heed its truth who read:
   "Republics rule the World!"
The universe is high as God!
   Good is the final goal;
The world revolves and man evolves
   A purpose and a soul.
No church can bind, no crown forbid
   Thought's mighty upward course -
Let kings give way before its sway,
   For God inspires its force.
The hero of a vanished age
   Was one who bathed in gore;
Who best could fight was noblest knight
   In savage days of yore;
Now warrior chiefs are out of date,
   The times have changed.  To-day
We call men great who arbitrate
   And keep war's hounds at bay.
The world no longer looks to priest
   Or prince to know its needs;
Earth's human throng has grown too strong
   To rule with courts and creeds.
We want no kings but kings of toil -
   No crowns but crowns of deeds;
Not royal birth but sterling worth
   Must mark the man who leads.
Proud monarchies are out of step
   With modern thought to-day,
For Brotherhood is understood,
   And thrones may pass away.
Men dare to think.  Concerted thought
   Contains more power than swords:
The force that binds united minds
   Defeats mere savage hordes.
Man needs no arbitrary hand
   To keep him in control;
He feels the power grow hour by hour
   Of his expanding soul:
In God's stupendous scheme of worlds
   He knows he has a place;
He is no slave to cringe, and crave
   Some worthless monarch's grace.
As ocean billows undermine
   The haughty shores each hour,
Time's sea has brought its waves of thought
   To crumble thrones of power;
And one by one shall kingdoms fall
   Like leaves before the blast,
As man with man combines to plan
   Republics formed to last.
Columbia baulked a tyrant king,
   And built upon a rock,
In Freedom's name, a shrine whose fame
   Outlived the century's shock.
Now France within our port has set
   Her symbol of re-birth;
Her lifted hand tells sea and land
   Republics light the earth.
One mighty church for all the world
   Would make men far more kind;
One government would bring content
   To many a restless mind.
Sail on, fair ship of Freedom, sail
   The wide sea's breadth and length.
'Till worlds unite to make the might
   Of "One Republic's" strength.
[The end]
Ella Wheeler Wilcox's poem: Song Of Republics
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