Out of the murk of heaviest clouds, Out of the feudal wrecks and heap’d-up skeletons of kings, Out of that old entire European debris, the shatter’d mummeries, Ruin’d cathedrals, crumble of palaces, tombs of priests, Lo, Freedom’s features fresh undimm’d look forth--the same immortal face looks forth; (A glimpse as of thy Mother’s face Columbia, A flash significant as of a sword, Beaming towards thee.)

Nor think we forget thee maternal; Lag’d’st thou so long? shall the clouds close again upon thee? Ah, but thou hast thyself now appear’d to us--we know thee, Thou hast given us a sure proof, the glimpse of thyself, Thou waitest there as everywhere thy time.