THERE is a mother, legend runs, Of mothers quite the best, Who boasts ten million sturdy sons 'Twixt plain and mountain crest; She gives of wealth in goodly store, She gives abounding health — and, more, She opens wide Contentment's door — Her name is Mother West. Beneath the blazing stars, low-swung, Where eagles make their nest, Her hardy boys to crags have clung And faced death with a jest; And on the cattle-dotted plain, Where ranch lights now gleam through the rain, Right cheerily her sons have lain And died for Mother West. For she a mystic spell has laid Upon the human breast; To break her bonds men have essayed, But well they stand the test; For every pulsing heart she claims, And every mind, with all its aims, Once yielding to her sunset flames Belongs to Mother West. O thou, whose bounties never fail, We are thy children blest; To foreign shores we may set sail, Our pilot strange unrest; But still thy nestlings turn to thee — Thy hills, thy plains, thy mystery — And, at the last, from oversea Come home to Mother West. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COUNTRY SCHOOLROOM, ADIRONDACK MOUNTAINS by LOUIS UNTERMEYER MEMORIAL VERSES by MATTHEW ARNOLD ON THE RHINE by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES THE NATIONAL PAINTINGS: COL. TRUMBULL'S 'THE DECLARATION...' by FITZ-GREENE HALLECK A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 50 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN SUMMER'S LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT: SPRING by THOMAS NASHE |