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Title: Liberty
Author: Jared Barhite [
More Titles by Barhite]
Into the port where Liberty stands
Inviting the nations to woo her,
Malefactors swarm from foreign lands,
Whose tenets would surely undo her.
Criminals, paupers, the ostracised
From all countries beyond the great sea,
Flock into the land our fathers prized,
And baptized "The Sweet Land of the Free."
They come not to build a hearth and home,
Or to clear and improve our rich soil,
But prowl like wolves that in forest roam,
And prey on fruits of our honest toil.
Long were our shores a refuge secure,
For the honest, the brave, and the true;
With valor and pride, men would endure
The trials that for State might accrue.
Men there are yet, who come to our shore,
In honor high, of great moral powers,
Whose hands give strength to homes we adore,
And whose hearts are as loyal as ours.
For these there is room and welcome, too,
For there's land quite enough and to spare,
But we pray that all the vicious crew
To their homes o'er the sea may repair.
Shall we quarantine disease and death,
Whose subtle infections float in the air,
And grant free power to the pois'nous breath
That would strangle our Liberty fair?
Sons of the Nation, arise in might!
And then swear by the God we adore,
This vicious crowd shall be put to flight,
And forever debarred from our shore.
Freedom and Liberty need our care,
If from wounds we would e'er keep them free,
For a frenzied brain would even dare
To destroy through base treachery.
Long live the land unto freedom given,
And forever may Liberty stand,
With beacon flame from the throne of heaven,
And a symbol of Light in her hand.
When stars shall fade from the dome of heaven,
And sun shall refuse his golden light;
When noon of Time shall be changed to even,
And earth shall be lost to human sight;
When crash of worlds and revolving spheres
Shall lose in chaos, identity;
And Time shall be measured not by years,
But on shall roll through eternity;
Then Liberty's form may sink in dust;
But loyal sons shall transported be
From the mundane scenes of moth and rust,
To the perfect home of Liberty.
I ween that when such an hour as this,
Shall marshal friends who have fought and died
For the sacred cause of earthly bliss,
And Freedom's cause have so magnified,
There shall be a special crown for him
Who has stood undaunted in the fight;
But the brightest star in the diadem
Is steadfast love for the Truth and Right.
[The end]
Jared Barhite's poem: Liberty
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