The world awaits this genius!  If you are not he, but talented in that direction, there are a thousand phases of American life that are of permanent historic value, which are rapidly passing away forever, and need to be perpetuated by literature and art.

In poetry, the master singer of modern days has not yet appeared.  There have been faint signs of him, a suggestion of him, an indistinct prophecy of him, in nearly all of the world’s singers for a hundred years.  Some day he will come.  It may be soon, and then he will sound that note which shall again thrill the hearts and again turn heavenward the eyes of men all round the world.

The point I am making is that the great things in poetry have not all been done.  On the contrary, it is the same old cry the world has heard since Homer.  Until Shakespeare wrote, it appeared, to those who had no vision, that the immortal things in literature had all been done.  But these immortal things and things not immortal, things permanent and things temporary, were only food and material for Shakespeare.

Literature, then, has only been furnishing the materials—­the timber—­for the structure that is yet to be built.  But the timber is noble in dimension, and they must be giants who use it.  If you are a giant, your task awaits you.

“It is nonsense to talk of any great war in which this country will ever be engaged,” said a wise and experienced public man to me one day, in discussing our future.  “There is no place in the world for distinguished service by an American soldier.  He can wear his uniform; he can study his tactics; he can be a warrior of the ball-room; but, after all, he is only a kind of policeman.”

This conversation occurred some years ago.  The fallacy of this conservative (shall we not say short-sighted, for sometimes they are mistaken for one another) man’s conclusion has been revealed by recent events.  And these events are only an index of similar possibilities.  Not that we want war; not that it is desirable; not that it should not be avoided, if possible; but that the movement of the pawns by Events on the great chess-board of the world and history may force us to war, no matter how unwillingly.

It may be that in the ultimate outcome, to use a double superlative, “a parliament of man and federation of the world” will be established which shall divide and distribute commerce as railroads are now said to agree on division of business and equality of rates.

But before such a noble condition arises there will surely be vast and destructive conflicts, unless the temper, nature, and attitude of men and nations change; and, if they do occur, no one but a fanatic of reaction imagines for one instant that we shall be able to keep out of them.

So that not all the battles have been fought, not all the strategy thought out.  And if you are a soldier and mean business, you need not despair of the possibility of winning one of the highest of honors given man to win—­the honor of fighting for your country and of dying for your flag.