You may tell in fondest phrases
How Venetian glory raises
Sunlit domes and basking marbles as her streets flow to the sea;
Sing of Florence or Geneva
Or the Bay of Naples; weave a
Web of sentiment--but leave a
Little sentiment for me.
Where the warm Atlantic waters
Lave your laughing sons and daughters
By a hundred sunny cities where her tides flow full and free,
Or on Caribbean beaches
While the water pulls and reaches
At your heart-strings--in your speeches
Save a sentiment for me.
San Francisco's golden fulgor,
Catalina's horticulture,
Every symphony of gladness, every gaiety there be;
Every land and every nation
Somewhere claim your admiration:
From your meed of approbation
Save your fealty to me.
* * * * * * *
Cloudless skies and peerless weather
Link my hearts and homes together
And the crisp, pure air of Winter vitalizes blood and brain;
Prairie breezes softly blowing,
Wheat fields' rustle--cattle lowing--
Broader visions coming--growing--
Woo, O lands, ye woo in vain!