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'BELOW there are white-faced throngs,
Their march is a tide coming Higher;
Below there are white-faced throngs,
Their faith is a banner flung higher;
Below there are white-faced throngs,
White swords they have yet, but red songs;
Place and lot they have lost hear you not?
For a dream you once dreamed and forgot!'
'But a dream has a life of its own
The wizard seas it can cross
A dream has a life of its own
It comes like the albatross.
A dream has a life of its own,
From my feet to your feet it has flown
And you, you victorious
That wild, white thing will lose!'
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