Classic and Contemporary Poetry
CONNECTICUT, by FITZ-GREENE HALLECK Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: And still her grey rocks tower above the sea Last Line: To the green land I sing, then wake; you'll find them there. Alternate Author Name(s): Croaker Subject(s): Connecticut | ||||||||
AND still her gray rocks tower above the sea That murmurs at their feet, a conquered wave; 'T is a rough land of earth and stone and tree, Where breathes no castled lord or cabined slave; Where thoughts and tongues and hands are hold and free, And friends will find a welcome, foes a grave; And where none kneel, save when to Heaven they pray, Nor even then, unless in their own way. Theirs is a pure republic, wild, yet strong, A "fierce democracie," where all are true To what themselves have voted -- right or wrong -- And to their laws, denominated blue (If red, they might to Draco's code belong); A vestal state, which power could not subdue, Nor promise win, -- like her own eagle's nest, Sacred, -- the San Marino of the west. A justice of the peace, for the time being, They bow to, but may turn him out next year: They reverence their priest, but, disagreeing In price or creed, dismiss him without fear: They have a natural talent for foreseeing And knowing all things; and should Park appear From his long tour in Africa, to show The Niger's source, they'd meet him with -- We know. They love their land, because it is their own, And scorn to give aught other reason why; Would shake hands with a king upon his throne, And think it kindness to his majesty; A stubborn race, fearing and flattering none. Such are they nurtured, such they live and die: All -- but a few apostates, who are meddling With merchandise, pounds, shillings, pence, and peddling. Hers is not Tempe's nor Arcadia's spring, Nor the long summer of Cathayan vales, The vines, the flowers, the air, the skies, that fling Such wild enchantment o'er Boccaccio's tales Of Florence and the Arno; yet the wing Of life's best angel, Health, is on her gales Through sun and snow, and in the autumn time Earth has no purer and no lovelier clime. Her clear, warm heaven at noon, -- the mist that shrouds Her twilight hills, -- her cool and starry eves, The glorious splendor of her sunset clouds, The rainbow beauty of her forest leaves, Come o'er the eye, in solitude and crowds, Where'er his web of song her poet weaves; And his mind's brightest vision but displays The autumn scenery of his boyhood's days. And when you dream of woman, and her love, Her truth, her tenderness, her gentle power; The maiden, listening in the moonlight grove; The mother, smiling in her infant's bower; Forms, features, worshipped while we breathe or move, Be, by some spirit of your dreaming hour, Borne, like Loretto's chapel, through the air To the green land I sing, then wake; you'll find them there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RIVER OF RIVERS IN CONNECTICUT by WALLACE STEVENS QUI TRANSTULIT SUSTINET by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD CONNECTICUT ROAD SONG by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH OCTOBER IN CONNECTICUT by LOUISE B. OLMSTEAD JENNINGS ROARING BROOK; A PASSAGE OF SCENERY IN CONNECTICUT by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS AUTUMN IN CONNECTICUT by JOHN PEPPER CLARK SLEEPING GIANT; A HILL IN CONNECTICUT by DONALD HALL ALNWICK CASTLE by FITZ-GREENE HALLECK |
|