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Morn's mystic rose is reddening on the hills,
Dawn's irised nautilus makes glad the sea;
There is a lyre of flame that throbs and fills
Far heaven and earth with hope's wild ecstasy.--
  With lilied field and grove,
  Haunts of the turtle-dove,
  Here is the land of Love.


The chariot of the noon makes blind the blue
As towards the goal his burning axle glares;
There is a fiery trumpet thrilling through
Wide heaven and earth with deeds of one who dares.--
  With peaks of splendid name,
  Wrapped round with astral flame,
  Here is the land of Fame.


The purple priesthood of the evening waits
With golden pomp within the templed skies;
There is a harp of worship at the gates
Of heaven and earth that bids the soul arise.--
  With columned cliffs and long
  Vales, music breathes among,
  Here is the land of Song.


Moon-crowned, the epic of the night unrolls
Its starry utterance o'er height and deep;
There is a voice of beauty at the souls
Of heaven and earth that lulls the heart asleep.--
  With storied woods and streams,
  Where marble glows and gleams,
  Here is the land of Dreams.

© Madison Julius Cawein