Nay! but our own dear land thou shalt not hold, Lord Christ. Thou hast thy white-walled Eastern town, And thine own endless worshipful renown, And heaven's own sunlit heights, and towers of gold.— Not thine the English wild furze-yellowed wold; Not thine the breeze that sweeps green hill and down; Not thine the roses that our gardens crown; Not thine our sea-winds ululant and bold. Rest where thou art, lest thou shouldst have a fall.— The storm is in our spirits, and the sea; The skies' grim armies hearken at our call, And the grey mountain-vapours round us flee, And murmurous ocean girds us like a wall. We are content. We have no need of thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO TIME by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON JULY IN GEORGY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE JOY OF THE HILLS by EDWIN MARKHAM DOMESDAY BOOK: GREGORY WENNER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE RUSSIAN ARMY GOES INTO BAKU by ALICIA SUSKIN OSTRIKER CLASS SONG (WHICH WILL BE SUNG ON THE 22ND OF FEBRUARY) by GEORGE SANTAYANA |