Contemplative Poem Eight

O true Land,
O true high mount of my citadel,
O true boundary of my worth,
O territory as long as it is wide,
Fight to defend!

O only generous benefactor,

The dimensions of our faith and of our deeds,
(and to whom we look for conscience),
Our kitchen fire!

O force to drive our law abiding,

O collaboration with the model citizen,
Seek our compliance!

O Valleys in the mist to forested peaks,

O Western plains with rodeo stud,
O Prairie fields of hard red wheat,
O Snow-cleared iced canal, and river mud,
O Territories vast to island roads last,
May your prayers be those of many faces!

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