Katharine Lee Bates

"O beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain, For purple mountain majesties Above the fruited plain! America! America! God shed His grace on thee, And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea!"

"O beautiful for pilgrim feet Whose stern impassion'd stress A thoroughfare for freedom beat Across the wilderness. America! America! God mend thine ev'ry flaw, Confirm thy soul in self-control, Thy liberty in law."

"O beautiful for heroes prov'd In liberating strife, Who more than self their country loved, And mercy more than life. America! America! May God thy gold refine Till all success be nobleness, And ev'ry gain divine."

"O beautiful for patriot dream That sees beyond the years Thine alabaster cities gleam Undimmed by human tears. America! America! God shed His grace on thee, And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea."

"Never was there lovelier town Than our Falmouth by the sea. Tender curves of sky look down On her grace of knoll and lea."

"Here is princely interchange Of the gifts of shore and field, Starred with treasures rare and strange That the liberal sea-chests yield. Culture here burns breezy torch Where gray captains, bronzed of neck Tread their little length of porch With a memory of the deck. Ah, and here the tenderest hearts, Here where sorrows sorest wring And the widows shift their parts Comforted and comforting. Holy bell of Paul Revere Calling such to prayer and praise. While a hundred times the year Herds her flock of faithful days!"

"Greetings to thee, ancient bell Of our Falmouth by the sea! Answered by the ocean swell, Ring thy centuried Jubilee! Like the white sails of the Sound, Hast thou seen the years drift by, From the dreamful, dim profound To a goal beyond the eye."

"Still thy mellow voice and clear Floats o'er land and listening deep, And we deem our fathers hear From their shadowy hill of sleep. Ring thy peals for centuries yet, Living voice of Paul Revere! Let the future not forget That the past accounted dear!"

"By the promise of noon"s blue splendor in the dawn"s first silvery gleam, By the song of the sea that compelleth the path of the rockcleaving stream, I summon thee, recreant dreamer, to rise and follow thy dream."

"In the inmost core of thy being I am a burning fire, From thine own altar-flame kindled in the hour when souls aspire, For know that men"s prayers shall be answered, and guard thy spirit"s desire."

"That which thou wouldst be thou must be, that which thou shalt be thou art; As the oak, astir in the acorn, the dull earth rendeth apart, Lo thou, the seed of thy longing, that breaketh and waketh the heart."

"I am the cry of the night wind, startling thy traitorous sleep; Moaning I echo thy music, and e"en while thou boastest to reap Alien harvests, my anger resounds from the vehement deep."

"I am the solitude folding thy soul in a sudden embrace. Faint waxes the voice of thy fellow, wan the light on his face. Life is as cloud-drift about thee alone in shelterless space."

"I am the drawn sword barring the lanes thy mutinous feet Vainly covet for greenness. Loitering pace or fleet, Thine is the crag-path chosen. On the crest shall rest be sweet."

"I am thy strong consoler when the desolate human pain Darkens upon thee, the azure outblotted by rush of the rain. All thou dost cherish may perish; still shall thy quest remain."

"Call me thy foe in thy passion; claim me in peace for thy friend; Yet bethink thee by lowland and upland, wherever thou wiliest to wend, I am thine Angel of Judgment; mine eyes thou must meet in the end."

"Because the years are few, I must be glad; Because the silence is so near, I sing; "Twere ill to quit an inn where I have had Such bounteous fare nor pay my reckoning. I would not, from some gleaming parapet Of Sirius or Vega, bend my gaze On a remembered sparkle and regret That from it thanklessly I went my ways Up through the starry colonnades nor found Violets in any Paradise more blue Than those that blossomed on my own waste ground Nor vespers sweeter than the robins knew."

"Though earth be but an outpost of delight, Heaven"s wild frontier by tragedy beset, Only a Shakespeare may her gifts requite. Only a happy Raphael pay his debt. Yet I, to whom, even as to these, are given Cascading foam, emblazoned butterflies, The moon"s pearl chariot through the massed clouds driven, And the divinity of loving eyes, Would make my peace now with mine hostess Earth, Give and take pardon for all brief annoy, And toss her, far beneath my lodging"s worth, Poor that I am, a coin of golden joy."