The Golden Treasury of the best songs and lyrical poems in the English Language |
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MOTHER COUNTRY
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 | The Golden Treasury |  |
LXXXVIII
MOTHER COUNTRY
Oh what is that country
And where can it be,
Not mine own country,
But dearer far to me?
Yet mine own country,
If I one day may see
Its spices and cedars,
Its gold and ivory.
And where can it be,
Not mine own country,
But dearer far to me?
Yet mine own country,
If I one day may see
Its spices and cedars,
Its gold and ivory.
Oh what is a king here,
Or what is a boor?
Here all starve together
All dwarf'd and poor;
Here Death's hand knocketh
At door after door,
He thins the dancers
From the festal floor.
Or what is a boor?
Here all starve together
All dwarf'd and poor;
109
At door after door,
He thins the dancers
From the festal floor.
Oh what is a handmaid,
Or what is a queen?
All must lie down together
Where the turf is green,
The foulest face hidden,
The fairest not seen;
Gone as if never
They had breathed or been.
Or what is a queen?
All must lie down together
Where the turf is green,
The foulest face hidden,
The fairest not seen;
Gone as if never
They had breathed or been.
Gone from sweet sunshine
Underneath the sod,
Turn'd from warm flesh and blood
To senseless clod,
Gone as if never
They had toil'd or trod,
Gone out of sight of all
Except our God.
Underneath the sod,
Turn'd from warm flesh and blood
To senseless clod,
Gone as if never
They had toil'd or trod,
Gone out of sight of all
Except our God.
And if that life is life,
This is but a breath,
The passage of a dream
And the shadow of death;
But a vain shadow
If one considereth;
Vanity of vanities,
As the Preacher saith.
This is but a breath,
The passage of a dream
And the shadow of death;
But a vain shadow
If one considereth;
Vanity of vanities,
As the Preacher saith.
C. G. Rossetti
| The Golden Treasury | |