The tune; (For Hugh and Olive McKinley)
But the song of the homeland; but the song of the people? What pettiness in all your grandeur! I raise my eyes to the midday cloud vestal gravid with ripeness to come. What it sees is dear to my heart - the rivers, the towns, seed-time and cattle, this land of Europe, so rich in fruits; the whole earth pregnant with teeming future: How solitary her course through space, heavy with her lands, heavy with oceans! He alone lives who praises her life and whose mind conceives the future order. The world will often bleed again, time and purpose be more understood. See in millenniums only instants - and seize the greater in the less. Measure the hearts and not the frontiers; measure the power of truth, not force. The world longs for joyful dances - understand the trees clamped to the rock! Earth shall become a peace-filled hall, its acts all be in brotherhood. I only work as simple tuner upon its future instrument.