It will be good to see
the vision of the smith
in the midst of smoke
with hands composed
with shoulders set
his eyes narrowed with
the care of love
the shaper loves the shape
loves even
the thing that resists the shape
that will be formed only slowly
by the toil and the strain
The prairies are on fire
the skies are dark
but the fire does not burn
but the ashes do not choke
America that could have been
America that never was
O bright city
what has become of you
O high and shining walls
who is there to recall
your gleaming in the day
O young men
on what did you spend
your days and strength
and the sweat of your brow
and did you act in love
Who is there
to have mercy
and to mourn
What new land can we find
across what wide sea
where we can set
stones upon stones
