Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MY NATIVE LAND, by CARLOS STUART



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MY NATIVE LAND, by            
First Line: Though brighter beams may gild the shore
Last Line: Profane my own, my native land!
Subject(s): Patriotism; United States; America


Though brighter beams may gild the shore
Where Sarum's ruined castles rise,
And fairer splendors hover o'er
Italia from the drooping skies;
No clime hath more of loved or grand
Than our own dear and native land!

Beyond the sea the leaping vine
May cling to fane and fortress grey,
And, clustering, shade the olden shrine
Which now is mouldering to decay
O'er these, the hills and altars stand
That crown and bless my native land!

Howe'er I love the southern sky,
The hallowed clime where music sprung—
Though on my ear may never die
The strains its god-like bards have sung;
They melt away, that glorious band,
Before my own, my native land!

God bless her soil, God bless her breeze,
The springs that lave each mountain's brow,
The hills, the vales, the waving trees,
And keep them fresh and fair as now;
Nor let one chain, or tyrant's hand,
Profane my own, my native land!





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