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Like giant oaks of the forest, great nations have small beginnings.

They are not born, like Minerva, in complete armor, strength, and wisdom.

Three hundred years ago at Jamestown our nation had its birth in the indomitable will, courage, and patriotism of John Smith and his little band.

Indomitable will, courage, and patriotism afterwards wrested it from the sway of a monarch's sceptre, and have ever since preserved it.

And indomitable will, courage, and patriotism will uphold our flag, maintain our nation, and secure to our country

The Blessings Op Lirerty for all time.

J. C. Wysor.

Pulaski, Virginia.

A VISION OF RALEIGH

I Oit have seen in watches of the night—

Was it a dream or seer's far-thrown thought!—

A vision of a realm I never knew—

For men grew in that air to rule themselves,

And set a beacon high for all the world,

A pilot star whereby the nations steered.

Methought me saw three little caravels, . . .

They clove the stormy leagues of wintry seas

To limp at last within Virginia's capes—

Those lone and silent sentries of the west—

And cast their anchor in an inland sea. . . .

With cables fine, spun by the silent fates,

Then anchored they the Old world to the New,

The Golden Future to the Age-Worn Past. . . .

I saw them land upon a little isle,

Bear first the cross; then plant a starry flag . . .

And lo! a new-made England swam in view. . . .

'Neath a new Heaven I saw a new Earth dawn.

In yon vast spaces of that virgin land

Men's minds grew great; their thoughts upsoared to God.

As in old days, Jehovah spake again,

On holy ground, from out the wilderness,

And taught men secrets veiled from highest kings:

That God's best gift to man is liberty;

His chosen altar aye the patriot's heart.

That neither Lords nor Kings can blind men's minds;

That neither State nor Church can rule men's souls;

That loftier far than gentle birth is birth

Of Noble Aspirations and High Deeds.

And deeper than all deep foundations lies

The People's Will. On this and this alone

All government whate'er must rest at last. . . .

This radiant beacon my Virginia set,

When Queenly, high enthroned amid the seas,

She lit the torch that flamed across the world

'Til joyful peoples clung about her knees,

And at her feet the grateful Nations sued.

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From his poem written for the Virginia Day Celebration at the Jamestown Exposition, June 12, 1907.

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Keeper of the Continent
Til the coming of the Race for which it was destined.

A Picturesque Figure
Gradually vanishing from the Scene of former Supremacy, and
Retreating westward before the encroachments of civilization.

High Above the Old-World Savage
In pride and prowess, in courage and dignity of character.

Child of Nature,
Deep-tinged with poetry, and harboring in his soul the
Rudiments of Religious belief and aspiration.

The Race of Hiawatha
And "Laughing Water"; of our own dear Matoaca.
Here's To The Red Man:
In life, all the blessings of our great Country!
In death, the joys of

"the Happy Hunting Grounds"
Of his fathers!

Julia Wyatt Bollard. Radford, Virginia.

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Behold a ship, whose faithful sail measured the ocean vast,
And near this historic spot her solemn anchor cast.

What then?
Forest and stream, wigwam-huts, and the
Red man's sovereign step in this New World.

Three cycles pass—Behold once more! A host by land and sea,
To celebrate the settlement! All Praise I So let it be!

Lone town,

And scenes adjacent. Pale face home, how strange the history!

Poor Indian!

Anna L. Bakdolph Price. Marlinton, West Virginia.

TO POCAHONTAS

Child of the forest, though daughter of an emperor, scion of a savage race, yet mother of a sterling Christian stock, the redolence of thy loyal womanhood hath lingered wellnigh through three centuries, and ever will refresh the page of history.

Though English royalty claimed thee as its favorite and a Briton took thee from the wilderness as his wife,

Thou Art Vraonna's Peculiar Heritaoe and her lasting pride.

Thy mortal remains long since have mingled with the dust of Albion, far, far away from the leafy haunts of thy forbears; but in memory, O Sylvan Maid, thou livest to-day in the Old Dominion as the type of all that maketh thy sex lovable.

Evan R. Chestermaw.

Richmond.

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