Casting The First Vote (Poem)

From mountain homes engirdled
By shadowy gloom of pines,
From hamlets whence the fisher’s boat
Sets sail o’er stormful seas to float;
From darkling depth of mines,
A host come forth to cast their vote,
A host in marshaled lines.

Clear-eyed, strong-limbed, and sturdy.
These honest sons of toil, —
They hold the ballot like a prayer,
Uplifted through the fateful air,
That none our land may spoil.
In their young manhood everywhere
They rise to guard the soil.