Arizona republican., 1905-12-22

With shackles on wrist and ankle, and dust on her stately head, And her proud eyes dim with weeping
 No! Bar your doors instead And seal them fast forever! but let her ,J go her way
 Uncrowned if you will, but unshackled,
 to wait for larger day. Ay! Let her go bare-handed, bound with no grudging gift, Back to her own free spaces where her rock-ribbed mountains lift Their walls like a sheltering fortress
 back to her house and blood. And we of her blood will go our way
 and reckon your Judgment good. We will wait outside your sullen door
 till the stars you wear grow dim As the pale dawn-stars that swim and
 fade OCT our mighty Canyons rim. We will lift no hand for the bays ye
 wear. nor covet your robes of state But ahi by the skies above us all, we
 will shame ye while we wait! We will make ye the mold of an en-
 pire here in the land ye scorn, " y
 well-housed ease that States at
 your nod are born. Ye have plotted your own beginnings,
 and taught your sons to forget That ye did not spring fat-fed and old
 from the powers that bear and
 beget
 But the while ye follow your smooth
 made roads to a fireside safe of
 fears,
 Shall come voice from a land still
 young, to sing in your age-dulled
 ears
 The hero song of a strife as fine as
 your fathers fathers knew, When they dared the rivers of unmap-
 ped wilds at the will of a bark
 canoe
 The song of the deed in the doing, of
 the work still hot from the hand; Of the yoke of man laid friendly-wise
 on the neck of a tameless land. While your merchandise is weighing,
 We will bit and bridle and rein The floods of the storm-rocked moun-
 talns and lead them down to the
 plain;
 And the foam ribbed, dark -hued wa
 ters, tired from that mighty race, Shall lie at the feet of palm and vine
 and know their appointed place; And out of that subtle union, desert
 and mountain-flo Shall be homes for nations choosing,
 where no home else had stood. We will match the gold of your mint
 ing, with its mint-stamp dulled
 and marred By the tears and blood that have stain
 ed it and the hands that have
 clutched too hard, With the gold that no man has lied for
 the gold no woman has made The price of her truth and honor, ply
 ing a shameless trade The clean, pure, gold of the mountains,
 straight from the strong, dark
 earth,
 With no tang or taint upon it from the
 hour of its primal birth. The trick of the money-changer, shift
 ing his coins as he wills. Ye may keep-no Christ was bartered for the wealth of our lavish hills. ''Yet we are little people-too weak
 for tle cares of state" Let us go our way! When ye look
 again, ye shall find us, mayhap.
 too great.
 Cities we lack-and gutters where
 children snatch for bread; Numbers-and hordes of starvelings.
 toiling but never fed. Spare pains that would make us great
 CT in the pattern that ye have set: We hold to the larger measure of the
 men that ye forget The men who, from trackless forests
 and prairies lone and far, Hewed out the land where ye sit at
 ease and grudge us our fair-won
 star.
 There yet be men. my masters"
 though the net that the trickster
 filings
 Lies wide on the land to it's bitter
 shame, and his cunning parleyings Have deafened the ears of Justice, that was blind and slow of old. Yet time, the last Great Judge, is not
 bought, or bribed. or sold: And Time and the Race shall judge
 us-not a league Of trafficking
 men, Selling the trust of the people, to bar
 ter it back again; Paiming the lives of millions as a hand
 full of easy coin. With a single heart to the narrow