ss of enlarging,
With the plentitude of rivers,
We, the generous water-givers,
Overflowing, bubbling, swelling,
Feed you with our rich upwelling.

_Chorus of Men_. From Monadnock and Mount Washington--
And where the haughty deer on Hudson's Bay
Sniffs the north wind, We bring you Mist.

_Chorus of Women_. From the rank lowlands of the Delaware,
And from the even margin of low sand,
Where the Atlantic smites the continent, We bring you Salt.

_Chorus of Men_. From Sicily and the Cumaean Cave,
And from the mountains where Apollo's shafts
Whitened the hillsides once, We bring you Thought.

_Chorus of Women_. From the dark heart of man that scorns the light,
From Wisdom, found in Meekness through Despair, We bring you Grief.

_Both Choruses_. Haste to where our father dwells!
We the movers, we the rovers,
Come to your eternal dwelling.
Ancient father, we will bring
News and thought of everything,
From the mossy citadels,
And the cities of the sea;
Timeworn tales of prophecy
We are bringing in our singing
To your newer Majesty.
To your destiny belated,
Young and unsophisticated,
We, the children of the ages,
Bring the solemn heritages,--
Force and Woe and Human Fate,--
Embittering your god-like state.
Bitter is life!
Bitter, bitter even to the gods, is life!

_Father Hudson_. Sons and daughters, sole feeders of my life,
By these new-coming white men I am destroyed.
My feet are burned in Manhattan, my thighs in the Mohawk,
While in the Adirondacks they blaze enduring ruin.

[_The leaders speak, not sing, except as otherwise noted._]

_Leader of Men_. Alas! little knows he that his kingdom is of nothing
but of change and pain.

_Leader of Women_. Foolish god that must await the baptism of humanity!

_Leader of Men_. Father! these things must be: therefore endure. Lo,
thy old trees are as grass; thy ancient summits as fresh ant-hills.
Chaldea sends thee this message, father; Egypt salutes thee; Greece
sends thee this song; a song of tribulation. For there is no short cut
to Antiquity: therefore endure.

_Father Hudson_. Woe, woe, woe is me!

_Leader of Men_. Untutored God! Mind ragged as thy hills, thou must
accept the refining pain.

_Father Hudson_. Woe, woe, woe is me!

_Leader of Women_. Peace, Father! Do not whine. Because thou hast
been spared thou art soft-minded. Because thou wast spared thou art a
child.