The Settler by Rudyard Kipling — Read

Here, where my fresh-turned furrows run, / And the deep soil glistens red, / I will repair the wrong that was done / To the living and the dead. / Here, where the senseless bullet fell, / And the barren shrapnel burst, / I will plant a tree, I will dig a well, / Against the heat and the thirst.

Here, in a large and a sunlit land, / Where no wrong bites to the bone, / I will lay my hand in my neighbour's hand, / And together we will atone / For the set folly and the red breach / And the black waste of it all, / Giving and taking counsel each / Over the cattle-kraal.