My Country.
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And like her matchless cobalt skies my spirit brooded over
As broods the deeper instincts in the passion of a lover,
As broods the deeper instincts in the passion of a lover,
And from the warm moist pregnant soil teeming with seeds of beauty
There germinated one live plant—the thin straight stalk of Duty.
There germinated one live plant—the thin straight stalk of Duty.
My Country is myself, in me she falls or is exalted.
I am a grain of the true salt wherewith she must be salted.
I am a grain of the true salt wherewith she must be salted.
I am my country, and in me her spirit is reflected,
My character and hers are indissolubly connected.
My character and hers are indissolubly connected.
This is the lesson that I learned, a sharp one and a bitter,
The naked path of honour, stripped of its metricious glitter,
The naked path of honour, stripped of its metricious glitter,
An ardent love of country lighted by poetic fervour,
But with the deeper knowledge that to love her is to serve her
But with the deeper knowledge that to love her is to serve her
Not only when by foes beset her need becomes my honour,
Not only when I openly may spend my best upon her,
Not only when I openly may spend my best upon her,
