I ride over the hills and I see the sun rise on America. I see a vast continent through the purple haze. I see the deserts and the jungles - the summer sun and the winter snow. I see the people who live in this country - as they came, different a!' the corners of the earth they left, and as they are today, one and indivisible - the lifeblood of the land. I see their farms and their great cities. I see them alone and in milling crowds, and I hear the tramp of their marching feet.
Manuscripts: Vol. 10
, Article 11.
Retrieved from: https://digitalcommons.butler.edu/manuscripts/vol10/iss4/11