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First draft of a piece of poetry about (can you guess :P) |
I say, I can see, by twilight's descending sky, The ones I proudly hailed, whose success made me dream, Dream of this land, land fertile of hopes and ambitions never too big, For a place that never sleeps. The rural you, the urban you, you in your integrity, your wholeness and holiness, Land where blood was shed to feed the lions of liberty, Where anyone can dream low and achieve big, No matter what their name is, You control us, empower us, and lead us, Liberate us and inspire us, You make us, And us, make you People condemn you, You chant “Enough!” People praise you, You chant “No More!” I’ve travelled you from your verdant plains of yellow daffodils, Your mountains high as your seas are deep, Your deserts of blazing sands and your field of corns, Yet, not all the sides of you, have I seen, They are unknown, and are your most precious beauties, And you should you take pride in their exhibition, And proclaim your landscapes, As your holy banner |