THE HEROES OF AMERICA.
Joaquin Miller
perfect heroes of the earth, - That conquer'd forests, harvest set!
- O sires, mothers of my West!
- How shall we count your proud bequest?
- But yesterday ye gave us birth;
- We eat your hard-earn'd bread to-day,
- Nor toil nor spin nor make regret,
- But praise our petty selves and say
- How great we are. We all forget
- The still endurance of the rude
- Unpolish'd sons of solitude.
- What strong, uncommon men were these,
- These settlers hewing to the seas!
- Great horny-handed men and tan;
- Men blown from many a barren land
- Beyond the sea; men red of hand,
- And men in love, and men in debt,
- Like David's men in battle set;
- And men whose very hearts had died,
- Who only sought these woods to hide
- Their wretchedness, held in the van;
- Yet every man among them stood
- Alone, along that sounding wood,
- And every man somehow a man.
- They push'd the mailed wood aside,
- They toss'd the forest like a toy,
- That grand forgotten race of men—
- The boldest band that yet has been
- Together since the siege of Troy.