We were in Georgia. You can get this land If hell is multiplied by paradise, Bare indigence by tenderness, and if A hothouse serves as pedestal for ice. And then you'll know what subtle doses of Success and labor, duty, mountain air Make the right mixture with the earth and sky For man to be the way we found him there. So that he grew, in famine and defeat And bondage, to this stature, without fault, Becoming thus a model and a mold, Something as stable and as plain as salt. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND by REGINALD HEBER CHAUCER; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW COLUMBUS by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER STORY OF THE GATE by HARRISON ROBERTSON THE TEARES OF THE MUSES by EDMUND SPENSER THE LAST BALLADE; MASTER FRANCOIS VILLON LOQUITUR by THOMAS BEER |