CUBA.
107
If the pure floods of heavenly sunlight, falling
On palace domes, could melt the iron rod
Which rules thy people, who in chains are galling,
Thou mightst be truly free to worship God.
On palace domes, could melt the iron rod
Which rules thy people, who in chains are galling,
Thou mightst be truly free to worship God.
In winning thee our nation's wish seems ended,
Throwing its peaceful mantle o'er thy breast—
Another star amid our azure blended,
Thy liberty could never be supprest.
Throwing its peaceful mantle o'er thy breast—
Another star amid our azure blended,
Thy liberty could never be supprest.
