Out of the hills shall come an endless singing, An anthem, aeons old, flung to the sky; and down through vales come ageless echoes ringing, Bright overtones of faith that cannot die. Across the hills tramp strong, brown gypsy brothers, Clan of a rustic race who know no fear, Born of faithful, sturdy, toiling mothers, Who taught their youths to stay the futile tear. Up from the soil spring wonders of creation, Who trample the misty peaks to a new-found day; These are the brawn and sinew of our nation, Carrying their clean ideals to the far away. Purple shadows lengthen across the deep As the hill folds her children on her breast to sleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN A SWEDISH GRAVEYARD by EMMA LAZARUS THE AIM WAS SONG by ROBERT FROST COLUMBUS [JANUARY, 1487] by LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY EARTH TRIUMPHANT by CONRAD AIKEN BRUCE: HOW AYMER DE VALENCE, AND JOHN OF LORN CHASED THE BRUCE ... by JOHN BARBOUR THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 37. TO ONE WHO WOULD 'REMAIN FRIENDS' by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |