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The America Of The Future Post by :eweno Category :Poems Author :Edward Doyle Date :July 2011 Read :2761

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The America Of The Future


Our Country still is in the womb, dark Time.
It shows life by its brisk and robust turns,
Which thrill the Mother, Liberty, who yearns
To see her man-child born. Oh, how sublime
With genius, not of one, but every climb
Where art forms beauty, or the spirit spurns
The foul and spurious,--her desire, that burns
Prenatally in him, to form him prime!

Oh People, all--Italian, Spanish, French,
Dutch, English, Irish, German, Jew, and Greek--
What see you, as you climb the Future's Peak?
Oh! no illusion. What looms there, shall wrench
From life, all monsters out from Hell, to seek
Dead consciences and plague earth with their stench.


Ascend, O Land of every Creed and Race!
Not thy full image, in New England's brook,
Nor in the South's lagoon; though there, a look
Delights us with thy chubby, infant face.
'Tis seas of joy, that shorelessly replace
The Ocean which, in time of old, forsook
The prairies for the cloud, or spring in nook,--
That show thee, Grown, through God's abundant grace.

From East to West, how joy's high seas expand,
Reflecting, not a foolish, mundane pride
That, thinking it does all, sets God aside--
But Virtue which, with heart and head and hand,
Works out God's purpose, with dear Christ for guide,
And holy spirits Light to understand!


All Virtues from the longing of the soul;
From wisdom, gained by sorrow through long ages;
From inspiration of the bards, in rages
That inter-marrying maniacs control
A people's life, and drain its sea to shoal,
And from the vision of sky-topping sages,
Gasping for breath from rot in all its stages,--
Aye, these and new-born Genius loom there Whole.

Look, People! Little less than God's own size,
Your virtues merge and, with speed God-ward, burn,
An unconsuming sun, that at no turn
In spiral flight, for still a grander rise,
Lets night advance where human Rights still yearn,
Except with great, new stars and dawning skys!

(The end)
Edward Doyle's poem: America Of The Future

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Reptiles With Wings Reptiles With Wings

Reptiles With Wings
Are lust for Gold and Power not hideous spawn Of prehistoric reptiles, that had wings? Where e'er those crawled, they chawed all greening things And, when they mounted, how their lengths, full drawn, Basked barren in the sun before the dawn, Absorbing all its rays from budding Springs? These drain life's dawn and by impoverishings, Draw and reduce to pulp, frail Consciences. Oh, yea, bewinged with legislative crime, They bask in sunlight

An Epoch's Angel Fall An Epoch's Angel Fall

An Epoch's Angel Fall
Judging from Wilson's virile virtue-voice, Whose whisper hushed Earth's Hum, were we not proud To have him cross the sea to speak aloud And, with a finger raised, hush battle noise, And lift all lands to Justice's equipoise? Oh, such his truth to God,--so oft avowed,-- A spirit thund'red from a luminous cloud: "This man crowns Lincoln's work. All Men! Rejoice." Oh, had he read his bible where St. Paul, Grown man,