An Appeal to the American Republic

The petty partisans of party war, The hireling quillmen, and the jingo crowd, The well-paid patriots, scenting from afar Silence, their doom—shall they eclipse the star Now crescent in the sky, whose music loud Rejoices humble hearts and true men all, And sounds the funeral Dirge of slave, tyrant, priest, that snarl, and snarling fall ? These we forget—remembering only this : Ye are blood-brothers, and our tongues are one ; Our hopes and conquests in one splendid kiss Unite and struggle not for empire. Is Our land and yours too little for the sun To gladden, to illume, to bid increase, Bound by two mighty seas In one fraternal clasp of admirable peace ? Ye are our brothers ; ye have spurned the power That bound the islands of your eastern shore ; Ye have restored to freedom that fair flower, Cuba, in her most agonising hour, And east and west have thundered with red war. We freed us from the slavery of Spain, And laid upon the main Our hand three centuries back—and ye have struck again. 5