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My Country.
178
Then, rising through these rosy mists, a clearer, sharper vision,
A definite conception soon emerging with precision,

My Country, now no longer just a place for happy living,
But asking more, and in return a poignant rapture giving,

My Country, mine, yet other, strange, and may be hostile nations,
Mine only one of many composite creations.

Yet mine, more mine! hot blood aflame, asking just to defend her
And the dear sum of all my joy unshrinkingly to lend her,

For so the young heart seeks to pour its own insurgent glory
Into a splendid deed, and write its memorable story

In letters that itself can read by native intuition,
And through its own fused passions bring ideals to fruition.

My Country! as she lies within the circling arms of ocean
The thought of her was islanded in the deeps of my emotion,