Bad because you do not yield Fruitage of a fertile field; Bad because your hills are steep, And your canyons wide and deep; Bad because your peaks are bare And your sides send back a glare; Bad, for you are hard to cross, Stark of shade or fern or moss. But your strata hold a lore And your depths a treasure-store. For your clays hold shell and bone That portray the ages gone. Fossil records deep and vast Tell the romance of the past. Age-old secrets we unlock From the pages of the rock. Beauty hangs like morning sheen; Beauty floods the noonday green; Beauty flames when daylight dies, Pulses in the midnight skies. Visions masterful and large Stretch from cliff to prairies' marge. Past and Future hand in hand Walk as in a fairyland. Bad lands? Glad lands! Clay lands? Gay lands! Sand lands? Grand lands! Drear lands? Dear lands! Ours! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AQUATINT FRAMED IN GOLD by AMY LOWELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: EUGENIA TODD by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: JUDGE SELAH LIVELY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A LETTER ON THE USE OF MACHINE GUNS AT WEDDINGS by KENNETH PATCHEN MIDSUMMER FROST (2) by ISAAC ROSENBERG GARDEN WIRELESS by CARL SANDBURG |