I SAID I stood upon thy grave,
My Mother State, when last the moon
Of blossoms clomb the skies of June.
And, scattering ashes on my head,
I wore, undreaming of relief,
The sackcloth of thy shame and grief.
Again that moon of blossoms shines
On leaf and flower and folded wing,
And thou hast risen with the spring!
Once more thy strong maternal arms
Are round about thy children flung, –
A lioness that guards her young!
No threat is on thy clos
(John Greenleaf Whittier)
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Based on Topics: Youth Poems, Spring Poems, Grief PoemsBased on Keywords: undreaming