J. R. Lowell
Where is the true man’s fatherland?
Is it where he by chance is born?
Doth not the yearning spirit scorn
In such scant borders to be spanned?
O yes! his fatherland must be
As the blue heaven wide and free!
Is it alone where freedom is,
Where God is God, and man is man?
Doth he not claim a broader span
For the soul’s love of home than this?
O yes! his fatherland must be
As the blue heaven wide and free!
Where’er a human heart doth wear
Joy’s myrtle-wreath or sorrow’s gyves,
Where’er a human spirit strives
After a life more true and fair—
There is the true man’s birthplace grand;
His is a world-wide fatherland!
Where’er a single slave doth pine,
Where’er one man may help another—
Thank God for such a birthright, brother—
That spot of earth is thine and mine!
There is the true man’s birthplace grand;
His is a world-wide fatherland!
—James Russell Lowell.
THE OAK TREE AND THE IVY
In the greenwood stood a mighty oak. So majestic was he that all who came that way paused to admire his strength and beauty, and all the other trees of the greenwood acknowledged him to be their monarch.
Now it came to pass that the ivy loved the oak tree, and inclining her graceful tendrils where he stood, she crept about his feet, and twined herself around his sturdy and knotted trunk. And the oak tree pitied the ivy.
