Katharine Lee Bates
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Katharine Lee Bates Poems
America the Beautiful
O beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain, For purple mountain majesties Above the fruited plain!
THOUGH the winds but stir on their hoary thrones Of hemlock and pungent pine, All the whispering woodland tones
Above the Battle
Honor and pity for the smitten field, The valorous ranks mown down like precious corn, Whose want must famish love morn after morn, Till Death, the good physician, shall have healed
If You Could Come
My love, my love, if you could come once more From your high place, I would not question you for heavenly lore, But, silent, take the comfort of your face.
At the crowded gangway they kissed good-bye. He had half a mind to scold her. An officer's mother and not keep dry The epaulet on his shoulder.
The Old Year groaned as he trudged away, His guilty shadow black on the snow, And the heart of the glad New Year turned grey At the road Time bade him go.
Fodder for Cannon
Bodies glad, erect, Beautiful with youth, Life's elect, Nature's truth,
America to England
1899 Who would trust England, let him lift his eyes To Nelson, columned o'er Trafalgar Square,
England to America
And what of thee, O Lincoln's Land? What gloom Is darkening above the Sunset Sea? Vowed Champion of Liberty, deplume Thy war-crest, bow thy knee,
Don't You See?
The day was hotter than words can tell, So hot the jelly-fish wouldn't jell. The halibut went all to butter,
THOU whose sunny heart outglows Arctic snows; Russia's hearth-fire, cherishing Courage almost perishing;
RED, white, blue, the flag that leads us on, Stripes as red as blood well shed by many a hero gone.
A Mountain Storm
OUR blue sierras shone serene, sublime, When ghostly shapes came crowding up the air, Shadowing the landscape with some vast despair;
Grim stones whose gray lips keep your secret well, Our hands that touch you touch an ancient terror, An ancient woe, colossal citadel
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
America the Beautiful
O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
God shed His grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!
O beautiful for pilgrim feet,
Whose stern, impassioned stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
God mend thine every flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law!