Poetry by BreannaB

Free Man’s Land

Below the eagle’s wings
The Spanish trav’lers searched for gold,
Enthused by charming stories told;
But to you a greater gift I bring.

With hopes of claiming land
Some pioneers, each with a wagon,
Passed through my canyons under the sun
And kissed my lips, so blue and grand.

Since then I’ve birthed prosperity,
My children have grown strong;
Some building, buying, working long,
Their highways have replaced my trees.

I am the land of America, who
Sings of beauty where men have trod,
Who cries out “freedom”; worship God!
I am that greater gift, so noble and true.

Poetry by BreannaB