The Mockingbird

You sing a song of Texas,

            So every way complete,

So lingeringly, lovingly,

            Superlatively sweet,

Of bluebonnets on sunward slopes,

            Primroses in me sun,

Of its wide prairies, that one sees

            Their green wind-ripples run.

You sing a song of Texas;

            Perched high against me dawn,

You sing of a new perfect day,

            Not of me darkness gone;

You sing a song of husbandry,

            Of where brown furrows run,

Of cotton growing in wide fields,

            Blooms lifted to me sun.

You sing a song of Texas;

            A land supremely blest;

A joyous song of each new dawn,

            Each latest song me best;

Of piney woods and mountain lands,

            Plains sloping to blue seas,

Of laden argosies with flags

            A-flutter on me breeze.

You sing a song of Texas ;

            A dawn song, and at night

A song of tasks conceived and done,

            Of windows all alight;

A song of little bungalows,

            Of children, love and rest;

A song of home-love, without which

            No land is truly best.

Poems for Declamation Table of Content