Classic Poem

The singers filled the tiny schoolhouse stage
With youth and vigor in a studied pose,
I watched them from the peak of middle age,—
There was a chord; the sturdy voices rose:
“God bless you, Texas,
And keep you brave and strong.”

And while they sang I thought, and pitied us,
Who had been young without that song to sing—
A bugle for a patriot,—and thus,
It made me glad to hear the voices ring.

Outside was Texas, sparkling to the door,
With rounded hill and prairie-mist of green,
Bluebonnets on the scented valley floor,
And mocking-birds that rhymed away unseen.

And here in Texas, in the simple hall,
The manly students with the chiming throats,
Their task the building of our country's wall,—
And with a sob I whispered to the notes:
“Good bless you, Texas,
And keep you brave and strong.”