PERHAPS
I see a gorgeous city, pompous, grand,
And hear it weeping with pain long borne.
It is built on rock and nobly planned,
The glory shine like bloom with leaf and thorn.
I feel its memories in brick and stone,
And lift my eyes to see the sky and stars.
Unpainted rock in weathered greys and blown
With winds and well I understand the bars.
From walk to turret there are many eyes,
Perhaps some measuring these thoughts of mine,
What color hair? How long the coat and thighs?
It may be true we drink the self-same wine.
OKLAHOMA
Hail Oklahoma land! O prairie plain,
There is no state more dearly loved.—All hail!
Where grassy hills and sheltered cove and vale
Rest quietly in peace—and in refrain
Our voices lift in praise and joy again;
We sing of Oklahoma land.—All hail!
Of sunny skies and even windy gale,
And wealth of growing corn and flowing grain;
Where black gold gleams and roses bloom in spring.
Here long roads stretch and grazing cow-herds roam.
We build in faith great churches and our state
With many schools, where children gaily sing.
We love our loamy fields and prairie home
And struggle onward upward, soon and late.
Hail Oklahoma land! O grassy plain,
There is no state more dearly loved.—All hail!