Oh, lion of the ample earth, What sword can cleave thy sinews through? The south forever cradles you; And yet the great North gives you birth. Go find an arm so strong, so sure, Go forge a sword so keen, so true, That it can thrust thy bosom through; Then may this union not endure! In orange lands I lean today Against thy warm tremendous mouth, Oh, tawny lion of the South, To hear what story you shall say. What story of the stormy North, Of frost-bound homes, of babes at play, What tales of twenty States the day You left your lair and leapt forth: The day you tore the mountain's breast And in the icy North uprose, And shook your sides of rains and snows, And rushed against the South to rest: Oh, tawny river, what of they, The far North folk? The maiden sweet -- The ardent lover at her feet -- What story of thy States today! The river kissed my garment's hem And whispered as it swept away: "God's story in all States today Is of a babe of Bethlehem." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO DOCTOR EMPIRIC by BEN JONSON TO BE CARVED ON A STONE AT THOOR BALLYLEE (1) by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE LAST MAN: INSIGNIFICANCE OF THE WORLD by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES FIAMMETTA: SONNET. OF HIS LAST SIGHT OF FIAMMETTA by GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO MAIDS AND MUSHROOMS by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN CHRIST by ROBERT JONES BURDETTE |