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...VILLA PAULINE by KATHERINE MANSFIELD CHAMBER THICKET by SHARON OLDS GUNS AS KEYS: AND THE GREAT GATE SWINGS by AMY LOWELL MONADNOCK IN EARLY SPRING by AMY LOWELL THE WALL STREET PIT, MAY, 1901 by EDWIN MARKHAM |