Tribute to America

There is a people mighty in its youth,

A land beyond the oceans of the west,

Where, though with rudest rites, Freedom and Truth

Are worshipt. From a glorious mother's breast,

Who, since high Athens fell, among the rest

Sate like the Queen of Nations, but in woe,

By inbred monsters outraged and opprest,

Turns to her chainless child for succor now,

It draws the milk of Power in Wisdom's fullest flow

That land is like an eagle, whose young gaze

Feeds on the noontide beam, whose golden plume

Floats moveless on the storm, and on the blaze

Of sunrise gleams when Earth is wrapt in gloom;

An epitaph of glory for thy tomb

Of murdered Europe may thy fame be made,

Great People! As the sands shalt thou become;

Thy growth is swift as morn when night must fade;

The multitudinous Earth shall sleep beneath thy shade.

Yes, in the desert, there is built a home

For Freedom! Genius is made strong to rear

The monuments of man beneath the dome

Of a new Heaven; myriads assemble there

Whom the proud lords of man, in rage or fear,

Drive from their wasted homes. The boon I pray

Is this--that Cythna shall be convoyed there,--

Nay, start not at the name--America!

~ Percy Bysshe Shelley