O strange new world that was the old!
O strange old world that was the young!
That greeted from strange altar fires,
From strange new gods, with strange new tongue!
Nor yet quite wholly understood-
Mysterious, magic, mystic land-
Yet answering still to lure, and thrill,
I reach my heart, I lift my hand.

Old with old story, thou, before
Cortez had given to thee the cross;
Queen Tula sang her people free;
Sad Montezuma wept their loss.
And greater far thy tale to be
As the close pages are unfurled-
Thy golden scroll of destiny,
O wonder of the old new world!

Fair in all beauty-mountain-peak
And forest-breadth and stream and sea,
And marvel of the flowering field
And of the desert mystery,
And proud-aye, proud and strong thy sons;
But ah! how fair the womanhood
Within whose gentle grasp there lie
Such wondrous potencies for good.

Thou leadest. Lead! In freedom strong,
Soldier of purity and peace,
Till war and strife are things that were,
And all of ill forever cease.
For still the peerless treasure shines-
The flowerful faces as of yore,
The pearls and gold that lured the old
Conquistadores to thy shore.

And kindred under the same skies,
Thy land, my land, aye, Sisters we!
The One who fashioned made us one,
Forever bound, forever free;
And love is wide as is the earth-
A rainbow love, from strand to strand-
O Sisters, Daughters of the sun,
I reach my heart! I lift my hand!