State of my birth, I come with a vast, deep cry of rejoicing, Yet the sound stands in my throat, Awed by thought, Stupendous peaks of thought That crowd to the sky, Then rest in the valley of contemplation . . . Green-hilled, Marked by the iced hand of glaciers, Quilted with farms, And riotously spumed with smoking mills Curling black ribbons on the wind from funnels, Grayed by man's laboring . . . Ah, blessed is the fruit of the back's slow bend! State that bore me, State wearing rivers for a necklace, Mountains for a crown, Daisies on its altars, Snow for its verdure, And stars like a holy light, Look down, Make me, lifted and silent, Articulate, Singing mightily and mightily, "God, I thank Thee!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PRESIDENT GARFIELD by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE PRINCESS: SONG by ALFRED TENNYSON THE CLOUDED SOUL by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA FOR NOEL (WHERE A GATE SWINGS EITHER WAY) by BEULAH ALLYNE BELL MERCHANT ADVENTURERS (WITH ACKNOWLEDGMENTS TO SIMEON STRUNSKY) by BERTON BRALEY MOTHER -- 1927 MODEL by BERTON BRALEY WHOSE HAND RESTRAIN? by LINDA BARNES BRYAN THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: THE NOVEL by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. I HEAR THY CALL, MYSTERIOUS BEING by EDWARD CARPENTER |