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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

MY LAND IS A RED LAND, by                    
First Line: My land is a red land
Last Line: And the red land breeds the rose.


My land is a red land
With clay hills all aglow,
And roads like streaks of giants' blood
Where my folk come and go.
Every man for his land
Where his own harvest grows;
But my land is a red land,
And the red land breeds the rose.

Few are rich in my land,
Some may call us poor,
Yet never stands a little home
But beauty's at the door.
Every man for his land
And what his own land shows;
But my land is a red land
And the red land breeds the rose.

My land is a scarred land,
Flood and storm cut deep,
But who would choose a smooth land
That's never learned to weep?
Every man for his land
With his own weal and woes;
But my land is a red land
And the red land breeds the rose.

Passions flame in my land,
Words are hotly said,
But none waits here to tell his love
Until his love is dead.
Every man for his land
And what his own heart knows
But my land is a red land
And the red land breeds the rose.





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