TURN, O Libertad, no more doubting;
Turn from lands retrospective, recording proofs of the
        past;
From the singers that sing the trailing glories of the
        past;
From the chants of the feudal world—the triumphs of
        kings, slavery, caste;
Turn to the world, the triumphs reserv’d and to come—
        give up that backward world;
Leave to the singers of hitherto—give them the trailing
        past:
But what remains, remains for singers for you—wars
        to come are for you;
(Lo! how the wars of the past have duly inured to you
        —and the wars of the present shall also inure:)
—Then turn, and be not alarm’d, O Libertad—turn
        your undying face,
To where the future, greater than all the past,
Is swiftly, surely preparing for you.

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