Northward! Northward! Goddess of the Tower,
Driving back the dappled cloud,
Bend thy golden bow.
Mignonette and violet and autumn's tawny flower
Fill with bloom and vague perfume
The humming ways below.

Down from his mountains Hudson rolls away,
Pouring forth their balsam breath
Upon our jaded strands;
Eastward, westward, southward to the Bay
Rock like bare November woods
The masts of many lands.

Day lifts up the hymnal of the street;
Night hath lamps
Of silver for thy shrine;
Air-drift, cloud-drift play about thy feet;
Moonlight, starlight,
Touch thy brow divine.

Ward our gates, Wielder of the Bow!
Guard with us a nation's weal,
Regent of the skies!
Crowd with keels the winnowed waves
That round our island flow!
Shop and mart to thee shall raise
The smoke of sacrifice!