12
the ceyba and the yaguey.
And heavy with its terrible rain
From the chaos of the heavens and main,
(After the weary, weary drouth,
The gush of the burning-hearted south!)
To hear the inspired monarch Tree
Roar its giant hymn of Liberty:
As if it saw red morn beneath
The dim horizon's misty wreath,
Coming the dank old gloom to fuse,
And dripping with its crimson dews,
And to the world sang o'er and o'er
"Her fiery drops earth counts no more!
The hearts you shut from hope and light,
And Beauty and the Infinite,
Into the air, into the day,
Will burst their wild, indignant way!"
Then in the calm, the light, the glory,
Most tender was its rhymed story;
When distant and faint the unweary sea
Rolled landward its vast harmony,
From the chaos of the heavens and main,
(After the weary, weary drouth,
The gush of the burning-hearted south!)
To hear the inspired monarch Tree
Roar its giant hymn of Liberty:
As if it saw red morn beneath
The dim horizon's misty wreath,
Coming the dank old gloom to fuse,
And dripping with its crimson dews,
And to the world sang o'er and o'er
"Her fiery drops earth counts no more!
The hearts you shut from hope and light,
And Beauty and the Infinite,
Into the air, into the day,
Will burst their wild, indignant way!"
Then in the calm, the light, the glory,
Most tender was its rhymed story;
When distant and faint the unweary sea
Rolled landward its vast harmony,
