Explore "The Native Land" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
(El Patrio Cielo)
By Francisco de Aldana
Clear fount of light! my native land on high, / Bright with a glory that shall never fade! / Mansion of truth! without a veil or shade, / Thy holy quiet meets the spirit's eye. / There dwells the soul in its ethereal essence, / Gasping no longer for life's feeble breath; / But, sentinelled in heaven, its glorious presence / With pitying eye beholds, yet fears not, death. / Beloved country! banished from thy shore, / A stranger in this prison-house of clay, / The exiled spirit weeps and sighs for thee! / Heavenward the bright perfections I adore / Direct, and the sure promise cheers the way, / That, whither love aspires, there shall my dwelling be.