To France

By George Sterling

O daughter of the morning! on thy brow
    Immortal be the lilies thou hast won!
    Eternal be thy station in the sun,
That shines not on a splendor such as thou!
A strength is thine beyond the armored prow,
    And past dominion of the lance and gun,
    Tho now thou stand, as battle-thunders stun,
Heroic, on the fields that cannon plow.

Triumph be thine, O beautiful and dear!
    Whose cause is one with Freedom and her name.
        The armies of the night devise thee wrong,
But on thy helm the star of Truth, is clear,
    And Truth shall conquer, tho thy cities name,
        And morning break, tho now the night is strong!

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