BEFORE the fiery sun, The sun that looks on Greece with cloudless eye, In the free air, and on the war-field won, Our fathers crowned the Bowl of Liberty. Amidst the tombs they stood, The tombs of heroes! with the solemn skies, And the wide plain around, where patriot blood Had steeped the soil in hues of sacrifice. They called the glorious dead, In the strong faith which brings the viewless nigh, And poured rich odors o'er their battle-bed, And bade them to their rite of Liberty. They called them from the shades, The golden-fruited shades, where minstrels tell How softer light the immortal clime pervades, And music floats o'er meads of Asphodel. Then fast the bright red wine Flowed to their names who taught the world to die, And made the land's green turf a living shrine, Meet for the wreath and Bowl of Liberty. So the rejoicing earth Took from her vines again the blood she gave, And richer flowers to deck the tomb drew birth From the free soil thus hallowed to the brave. We have the battle-fields, The tombs, the names, the blue majestic sky, We have the founts the purple vintage yields; -- When shall we crown the Bowl of Liberty? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BRIDGE: PROEM. TO BROOKLYN BRIDGE by HAROLD HART CRANE DENIAL [OR, DENIALL] by GEORGE HERBERT THE DARK MAN by NORA (CHESSON) HOPPER A LETTER TO LADY [MISS] MARGARET-CAVANDISH-HOLLES-HARLEY, WHEN A CHILD by MATTHEW PRIOR ON HIS MISTRESS, THE QUEEN OF BOHEMIA by HENRY WOTTON THERE IS NOTHING STRANGE by ARCHILOCHUS THE VALLEY OF REMORSE by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON |