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View Diary: Texas, secession and Latinos: How we can make this work (345 comments)

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  •  Ah, Australia. (0+ / 0-)

    That would explain your smart, sane, lovely post.  I'm from wide, brown West Texas, so the poetry touches my heart.  

    •  Dorothea McKellar wrote that. (1+ / 0-)
      Recommended by:
      Tea and Strumpets

      Here is the full poem. I think any Texan would recognize the terrain:

      The love of field and coppice,
      Of green and shaded lanes.
      Of ordered woods and gardens
      Is running in your veins,
      Strong love of grey-blue distance
      Brown streams and soft dim skies
      I know but cannot share it,
      My love is otherwise.

      I love a sunburnt country,
      A land of sweeping plains,
      Of ragged mountain ranges,
      Of droughts and flooding rains.
      I love her far horizons,
      I love her jewel-sea,
      Her beauty and her terror -
      The wide brown land for me!

      A stark white ring-barked forest
      All tragic to the moon,
      The sapphire-misted mountains,
      The hot gold hush of noon.
      Green tangle of the brushes,
      Where lithe lianas coil,
      And orchids deck the tree-tops
      And ferns the warm dark soil.

      Core of my heart, my country!
      Her pitiless blue sky,
      When sick at heart, around us,
      We see the cattle die -
      But then the grey clouds gather,
      And we can bless again
      The drumming of an army,
      The steady, soaking rain.

      Core of my heart, my country!
      Land of the Rainbow Gold,
      For flood and fire and famine,
      She pays us back threefold -
      Over the thirsty paddocks,
      Watch, after many days,
      The filmy veil of greenness
      That thickens as we gaze.

      An opal-hearted country,
      A wilful, lavish land -
      All you who have not loved her,
      You will not understand -
      Though earth holds many splendours,
      Wherever I may die,
      I know to what brown country
      My homing thoughts will fly.

      For if there is a sin against life, it consists perhaps not so much in despairing of life as in hoping for another life and in eluding the implacable grandeur of this life. - Albert Camus

      by Anne Elk on Tue Nov 13, 2012 at 02:36:09 PM PST

      [ Parent ]

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