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 Westward, along the level prairies of a kingdom yet to be, my memory runs, with a clear vision of the days when romance died not and strong hearts never failed. The glamour of the plains is before my eyes; the tingle of courage, danger-born, is in my pulse-beat; the soft hand of love is touching my hand. I live again the drama of life wherein there are no idle actors, no stale, unmeaning lines. And beyond the action, this way _up_ the years, there runs also the forward-gazing vision toward a new Hesperides:
 Through the veins Of whose vast Empire flows, in strengthening tides, Trade, the calm health of nations.
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 And sometimes I would doubt If statesmen, rocked and dandled into power, Could leave such legacies to kings.