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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=403083" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Our Canal</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">To Colonel Goethals and the Other Laborers in the Canal Zone</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>In lazy laughing Panama— <br>O flutter of ribbon 'twixt the seas!— <br>The low-roofed houses lie afloat, <br>White foam-drift of the Caribbees. <br>Under lithe palms that fan the sky <br>Down in each drowsy plaza there, <br>Brown-footed girls go glancing by <br>With red hibiscus in their hair. <br>Low mountains, trailing veils of cloud, <br>In the two oceans dip their feet, <br>And hear the proud tides roaring loud <br>Where Andes with Sierras meet. <br>O Panama! O ribbon-twist <br>That ties the continents together, <br>Now East and West shall slip your tether <br>And keep their ancient tryst. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">What are you doing here, <br>Young men, with your engines vast? <br>Sons of the pioneer <br>Who conquered wastes austere <br>And from ocean to ocean passed; <br>Sons of the men who made <br>Reaper and telegraph, <br>Steamer and aeroplane— <br>All the iron-handed things, <br>Swift feet and tongues and wings, <br>That would make the old gods laugh <br>For the bitter games they played <br>With the secrets they kept in vain: <br>What are you doing here, <br>Young men, with your dredges and drills <br>That level the ancient hills <br>Into a path for ships? <br>Open your eyes and lips— <br>What do you see and hear? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Oh, we build you the world's last wonder, <br>The thing not made with hands. <br>Our steel beasts gnaw asunder <br>The locked and laboring lands. <br>We choke the torrent's rage,<br>And bid him his wrath assuage<br>By drowning the jungle deep.<br>In steel-locked chambers gray<br>We hold his floods at bay,<br>On wide blue lakes asleep.<br>Now shall the brave ships ride<br>Over the crouching hill<br>From eager tide to tide,<br>That so we may fulfil<br>The iron century's will;<br>That so our country, maker of tools sublime,<br>The nations may surprise<br>With this last gift of the grand old workman,<br>Time;<br>His prodigy powerful, delicate, sentient, wise, <br>Perfect in strange completeness, strong to obey, <br>Strong to compel the world along its way <br>And praise man's triumph in its mighty rhyme.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But what are you doing here, <br>Young men, with your flags?— <br>With your glamour of joy severe <br>With your villages up the hill, <br>The screened little houses gay, <br>Where the good of all is the will <br>Of each in a grand new way? <br>Sons of the men who founded <br>New states in the wilds, to be <br>Garden and range unbounded <br>For young Democracy; <br>Sons of the heroes dear <br>Who fought for liberty, <br>What are you doing here? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Look, it's the same old fight <br>Out of the dark to the light; <br>Never the end shall be <br>Till the last slave is free! <br>Here while we dig the Ditch <br>We would build you a perfect state, <br>Where service makes men great <br>And the great scorn to be rich; <br>Where each man has his place <br>And a measure more than his meed—. <br>A banner of joy to grace <br>The strength of the daily deed; <br>Where Disease, trapped in his lair<br>With Squalor and Want and Care,<br>Is slain with the poison fume<br>He loosed for the proud world's doom;<br>Where the Work is a marching song<br>Sung by us all together,<br>Bearing the race along<br>Through good and evil weather.<br>Oh tell them, shout it through the halls of time !—<br>When the Big Chief unrolls his glorious plan, <br>Draws hearts and hands together in perfect rhyme, <br>Nothing shall be impossible to Man!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But what are you doing here, <br>Young men, with your gates? <br>With your bells and beacons clear <br>Where the hope of the whole world waits? <br>With your call across the seas <br>To the ships that circle afar, <br>To the nations that burn and freeze <br>Each under her separate star? <br>Who followed the Truth austere, <br>Of poets and prophets grave— <br>What are you doing here? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Hush! we wait at the gate <br>Till the dream shall be the law. <br>He gave us our beacons and bells <br>Who first the vision saw, <br>And the fleets of the world in state <br>Shall follow his caravels. <br>Ghost-led, our ships shall sail <br>West to the ancient East. <br>Once more the quest of the Grail, <br>And the greatest shall be the least. <br>We shall circle the earth around <br>With peace like a garland fine; <br>The warring world shall be bound <br>With a girdle of love divine. <br>What build we from coast to coast? <br>It's a path for the Holy Ghost. <br>Oh Tomorrow and Yesterday <br>At its gate clasp hands, touch lips; <br>They shall send men forth in ships <br>To find the perfect way. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'All that was writ shall be fulfilled at last. <br>Come—till we round the circle, end the story. <br>The west-bound sun leads forward to the past <br>The thundering cruisers and the caravels. <br>Tomorrow you shall hear our song of glory <br>Rung in the chime of India's temple bells.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O lazy laughing Panama! <br>O flutter of ribbon 'twixt the seas! <br>Pirate and king your colors wore <br>And stained with blood your golden keys. <br>Now what strange guest, on what mad quest, <br>Lifts up your trophy to the breeze! <br>O Panama, O ribbon-twist <br>That ties the continents together, <br>Now East and West shall slip your tether <br>And keep their ancient tryst.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Harriet+Monroe">Harriet Monroe</a><div class=q>
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In lazy laughing Panama— 
O flutter of ribbon 'twixt the seas!— 
The low-roofed houses lie afloat, 
White foam-drift of the Caribbees. 
Under lithe palms that fan the sky 
Down in ..."></div>
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