PILGRIM! oh say, hath thy cheek been fanned By the sweet winds of my sunny land? Knowest thou the sound of its mountain pines? And hast thou rested beneath its vines? Hast thou heard the music still wandering by, A thing of the breezes, in Spain's blue sky, Floating away o'er hill and heath With the myrtle's whisper, the citron's breath? Then say, are there fairer vales than those Where the warbling of fountains forever flows? Are there brighter flowers than mine own, which wave O'er Moorish ruin and Christian grave? O sunshine and song! they are lying far By the streams that look to the western star; My heart is fainting to hear once more The water-voices of that sweet shore. Many were they that have died for thee, And brave, my Spain! though thou art not free; But I call them blest -- they have rent their chain -- They sleep in thy valleys, my sunny Spain! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BOTANICAL GARDENS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A FRIEND'S SONG FOR SIMOISIUS by LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY THE WIND AND THE MOON by GEORGE MACDONALD DRIFTING by THOMAS BUCHANAN READ PSALM 6; AUGUST 13, 1643 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |