Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE WESTERN SPIRIT, by WILLIAM STEWARD GORDON First Line: No language can define it Last Line: For it's going, and it's never coming back. Subject(s): Patriotism; Seattle, Washington; War | ||||||||
No language can define it And the miner cannot mine it 'Tis illusive as the spirit of the wind. No chemist can distill it, To tame it is to kill it, And it leaves the world's contestants all behind. 'Tis the spirit of Seattle, And the hammers' hum and rattle Of Portland as she pulsates in her power. 'Tis Willamette's growing pains, As she clutches at the reins Of Progress at a hundred miles an hour. It's the tramp of herds of cattle And the war whoop of the battle It's a sort of magic microbe in the blood. It's the patriotic passion Running wild in Western fashion, And expanded with the wideness of the wood. Why, listen, don't you hear it? 'Tis the Rooseveltian spirit, And the bucking of the bronchos at Cheyenne. 'Tis the song of Forty-niner, And the shout of Dawson miner, With the hustle and the bustle of the glen. 'Tis the recklessness of youth And the daring of Duluth, In a medley and romance of the mind. 'Tis the spirit of adventure, And you cannot catch or quench her With an auto and an aëroplane combined. 'Tis the spirit of the mountain, And old Ponce's fabled fountain, Set to music in Multnomah's cataract. It has struck the West to win it And you'd better all be in it, For it's going, and it's never coming back. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I AM YOUR WAITER TONIGHT AND MY NAME IS DIMITRI by ROBERT HASS MITRAILLIATRICE by ERNEST HEMINGWAY RIPARTO D'ASSALTO by ERNEST HEMINGWAY WAR VOYEURS by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA THE DREAM OF WAKING by RANDALL JARRELL THE SURVIVOR AMONG GRAVES by RANDALL JARRELL SO MANY BLOOD-LAKES by ROBINSON JEFFERS A HUSTLE FOR THE FAIR by WILLIAM STEWARD GORDON |
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