- Breathes there the man with soul so dead
- Who never to himself hath said,
- This is my own, my native land!
- Whose heart hath ne’er within him burned,
- As home his footsteps he hath turned
- From wandering on a foreign strand!
- If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
- For him no minstrel raptures swell;
- High though his titles, proud his name,
- Boundless his wealth as wish can claim
- Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
- The wretch, concentred all in self,
- Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
- And, doubly dying, shall go down
- To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
- Unwept, unhonored , and unsung.
Our prayers go out to those patriots who honor their country with service in our military, and to those family members who wait expectantly for the day when their loved one's footsteps are turned toward home.
God Bless America!!
3 comments:
I didn't know that poem. very fitting.
I hadn't thought of it in years, but it just popped into my head the other day. There's a definite shift among many in America to almost be ashamed of our country, rather than proud of it.
You might like to read this, too:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Man_Without_a_Country
Now that's what I call a story. Thanks for the link.
Post a Comment