ALL tell me that thou art not fair, Beloved native land! No crown of mountain heights dost wear, No robe of vines' green band; No eagle in thy sky appears, No palm-tree greets the eye; But the primeval world's bright tears Along they coast-lines lie. No metals dost thou give the king, Diamonds nor purple robe; The truest hearts thy offering That beat in all earth's globe. For battle thou dost bring the steed Worth tons of shining gold, Strong men to curb the charger's speed And the keen sword to hold. And when I walk in dreamy hour Through sombre fir-woods wide, And see the mighty oak-trees tow'r Aloft in royal pride; When, echoing from Memel's strand, Floats song of nightingale, And o'er the distant dune's white sand The snowy gull doth sail, -- Such blissful raptures o'er me throng No language can convey; I pour my joy forth in a song Attuned to music gay. E'en though thy robe is simple, and No mountains crown thy brow, Long live East Prussia! Native land, How wondrous fair art thou! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE by CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE WILD SWANS by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY VERSES DESIGNED TO BE SENT TO MR. ADAMS by ELIZABETH FRANCES AMHERST ECLOGUE: THE COMMON A-TOOK IN by WILLIAM BARNES TO DAMON by JANE (HUGHES) BRERETON OUR PRISONERS OF WAR IN GERMANY by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES |