INVITATION

I bring you a prairie greeting

Crested with sunlight sheen,

A picture of mountains rising

To snow-capped heights of green;

A call from the happy home-land

Where human hearts beat warm,

Where western corn-fields beckon

And shelter from life's storm.

London, thy heart of riches

Hath the pulse-beat of unrest,

Where the many know no shelter,

Where the babe weeps at the breast

All bared to the winter shiver,

Where the hearth-fire, cold and dead,

Is darkened by the shadow

And Shapes of the underfed.

Oh, the hopeless, heavy-burdened

Bearers of woe and pain,—

Mere human stones in the highway

Of London's greed and gain.

There weeps the child whom sadness

And want have made their own;

There weeps the old, whom gladness

Is a stranger, and unknown.

Oh, come to the land of Plenty

Where the gates swing open, wide;

Where all mankind stand equal ——

Where toil is a boast — a pride:

Where the silken palm clasps the horny hand

When the long day's work is done,

Where new life is born in the growing corn

In the land of the Setting Sun.