America (December, 1921)

Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,
And sinks into my throat her tiger's tooth,
Stealing my breath of life, I will confess
I love this cultured hell that tests my youth!
Her vigor flows like tides into my blood,
Giving my strength erect against her hate.
Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood.
Yet as a rebel fronts a king in state,
I stand within her walls with not a shred
Of terror, malice nor even a word of jeer.
Darkly I gaze into the days ahead
To see her might and granite wondеrs there,
Benеath the touch of Time's unerring hand,
Like ancient treasure buried in the sand.