While this America settles in the mould of its vulgarity, heavily thickening to empire, And protest, only a bubble in the molten mass, pops and sighs out, and the mass hardens, I sadly smiling remember that the flower fades to make fruit, the fruit rots to make earth. Out of the mother; and through the spring exultances, ripeness and deca y; and home to the mother. You making haste haste on decay: not blameworthy; life is good, be it stubbornly long or suddenly A mortal splendor: meteors are not needed less than mountains: shine, perishing republic. But for my children, I would have them keep their distance from the thickening center; corruption Never has been compulsory, when the cities lie at the monster's feet there are left the mountains. And boys, be in nothing so moderate as in love of man, a clever servant, insufferable master. There is the trap that catches noblest spirits, that caught--they say-- God, when he walked on earth | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTER WINTER by STERLING ALLEN BROWN PASSION AND LOVE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR SEVEN TIMES FOUR [ - MATERNITY] by JEAN INGELOW A FIESOLAN IDYL by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR STILL FALLS THE RAIN; THE RAIDS, 1940. NIGHT AND DAWN by EDITH SITWELL A CAROL CLOSING SIXTY-NINE by WALT WHITMAN |