HEIR to the wealth of all the storied past,
by Albert Durrant Watson
A thousand generations pour their life
Into this heart of mine;
'Twere base indeed if these should be the last,
Life's standard bearing in some noble strife,
To advance the battle line.
Let life grow richer by its cost to me,
Till hope, too strong for dream of weak despair,
Seize each momentous goal;
No monster of chimeric mystery,
Or fabled horror with its deathful stare,
Palsy my dauntless soul.
Lord of this heritage of life and hope,
Dowered with what gifts the ages could achieve
By dint of toil and tears,
I, in my turn, with some new problem cope,
And gratefully the sure solution leave
For all the coming years.