On an Invitation to the United States
My ardours for emprize nigh lostSince Life has bared its bones to me,I shrink to seek a modern coastWhose riper times have yet to be;Where the new regions claim them freeFrom that long drip of human tearsWhich peoples old in tragedyHave left upon the centuried years.
For, wonning in these ancient lands,Enchased and lettered as a tomb,And scored with prints of perished hands,And chronicled with dates of doom,Though my own Being bear no bloomI trace the lives such scenes enshrine,Give past exemplars present room,And their experience count as mine.
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