 | Joaquin Miller's Poems |  |
167
CHRISTMAS BY THE GREAT RIVER
Oh, lion of the ample earth,
What sword can cleave thy sinews through?
The south forever cradles you;
And yet the great North gives you birth.
What sword can cleave thy sinews through?
The south forever cradles you;
And yet the great North gives you birth.
Go find an arm so strong, so sure,
Go forge a sword so keen, so true,
That it can thrust thy bosom through;
Then may this union not endure!
Go forge a sword so keen, so true,
That it can thrust thy bosom through;
Then may this union not endure!
In orange lands I lean today
Against thy warm tremendous mouth,
Oh, tawny lion of the South,
To hear what story you shall say.
Against thy warm tremendous mouth,
Oh, tawny lion of the South,
To hear what story you shall say.
What story of the stormy North,
Of frost-bound homes, of babes at play—
What tales of twenty States the day
You left your lair and leapt forth:
Of frost-bound homes, of babes at play—
What tales of twenty States the day
You left your lair and leapt forth:
The day you tore the mountain's breast
And in the icy North uprose,
And shook your sides of rains and snows,
And rushed against the South to rest:
And in the icy North uprose,
And shook your sides of rains and snows,
And rushed against the South to rest:
Oh, tawny river, what of they,
The far North folk? The maiden sweet—
The ardent lover at her feet—
What story of thy States today!
The far North folk? The maiden sweet—
The ardent lover at her feet—
What story of thy States today!
168
The river kissed my garment's hem,
And whispered as it swept away:
“God's story in all States today
Is of a babe of Bethlehem.”
And whispered as it swept away:
“God's story in all States today
Is of a babe of Bethlehem.”
| Joaquin Miller's Poems | |