O’er the flat sloping land
Sculpting and crafting by hand
From the Cumberland to the Lookout
Following the hardwood and pasture route
Forming lying valleys and emerald farms
Drifting o’er the scapes spreading my charms
Gazing o’er the beauteous plain
Before my hand; the land lay so plain
Now my heart beats with an artisan’s passion
“For a rose by any other name would smell as sweet”
And this rose’s name is Georgia.
(8/20/2007)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What can I say that I havent said yet? PERFECT in every way. xx