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4.
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My America
Its span is such
An eagle in its flight
My pulse does shriek and pound,
For America-
My America-
Ever coasting homeward bound.
To me
She sweeps and soars above
For ever she will be free,
She is America,
My America,
For justice-
In liberty.
So great her breadth
So wide her yar
A beauty to reckon with,
America,
She is my America,
Enforged of brawn
and myth.
And though she may retreat,
reverse,
fall back
and then seem to rest-
She is doing nothing of the sort,
but is ever gathering-
(while the UN is merely blathering)
Her audacious,
crowning breath.
So enemies,
you should be aware
As should our friends who jibe
and jest,
For America,
My America,
Though fallen to her knees-
Is a Renaissance at its best.
And through
and oer the raging strife
And weary blow-ups
shall she roam,
America,
My America,
Ever will she come home.
For though sophisticates
may cavil hoarse
And some rurals
they may scorn,
In America,
My America,
These people
are her corps.
And in this country,
My America,
Theyre Americans-
Peace or War!
Bryan Taplits
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