<h2><SPAN name="page58"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>TO THE WEST</h2>
<p>[In an interview with Lawrence Barrett, he said: “The
literature of the New World must look to the West for its
poetry.”]</p>
<p class="poetry">Not to the crowded East,<br/>
Where, in a well-worn groove,<br/>
Like the harnessed wheel of a great machine,<br/>
The trammelled mind must move—<br/>
Where Thought must follow the fashion of Thought,<br/>
Or be counted vulgar and set at naught.</p>
<p class="poetry">Not to the languid South,<br/>
Where the mariners of the brain<br/>
Are lured by the Sirens of the Sense,<br/>
And wrecked upon its main—<br/>
Where Thought is rocked, on the sweet wind’s breath<br/>
To a torpid sleep that ends in death.</p>
<p class="poetry">But to the mighty West,<br/>
That chosen realm of God,<br/>
Where Nature reaches her hands to men,<br/>
And Freedom walks abroad—<br/>
Where mind is King, and fashion is naught,<br/>
There shall the New World look for thought</p>
<p class="poetry"><SPAN name="page59"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">p.
59</span>To the West, the beautiful West,<br/>
She shall look, and not in vain—<br/>
For out of its broad and boundless store<br/>
Come muscle, and nerve, and brain.<br/>
Let the bards of the East and the South be dumb—<br/>
For out of the West shall the Poets come.</p>
<p class="poetry">They shall come with souls as great<br/>
As the cradle where they were rocked;<br/>
They shall come with brows that are touched with fire<br/>
Like the gods with whom they have walked;<br/>
They shall come from the West in royal state,<br/>
The Singers and Thinkers for whom we wait.</p>
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