![]() |
||||||
|
|
||||||
|
Book, page 221 / 248 Remember, as the flaming car Of ruin nearer rolls, That of our country's substance are Our bodies and our souls. Her dust we are, and to her dust Our ashes shall descend: Who craves a lineage more august Or a diviner end? By blessing of her fruitful dews, Her suns and winds and rains, We have her granite in our thews, Her iron in our veins. And, sleeping in her sacred earth, The ever-living dead On the dark miracle of birth Their holy influence shed.... So, in the faith our fathers kept, We live, and long to die; To sleep forever, as they have slept, Under a sunlit sky; Close-folded to our mother's heart To find our souls' release-- A secret coeternal part Of her eternal peace;-- Where Hood, Saint Helen's and Rainier, In vestal raiment, keep Inviolate through the varying year Their immemorial sleep; Or where the meadow-lark, in coy But calm profusion, pours The liquid fragments of his joy On old colonial shores.
|
Knowledgerush Search
|
|
Contact Us
| Privacy Statement & Terms of Use
|