A poem which is not green from my country

My country poem analysis

Nylon parachutes in Her pitiless blue sky, When, sick at heart, around us We see the cattle die But then the grey clouds gather, And we can bless again The drumming of an army, The steady soaking rain. Human fabric is dragged out, being is sewn with terror or awe which is also joy. Land of the rainbow gold, For flood and fire and famine She pays us back threefold. By you it means the poem. We worked on this or that flag after sewing this or that unicorn. I love her far horizons, I love her jewel-sea, Her beauty and her terror The wide brown land for me! Airline pilots wear wool blend flag ties from Target to protect their hearts. Fibers, beauty at a low level, fabric styles, the cottage industry of thought. Over the thirsty paddocks, The filmy veil of greenness That thickens as we gaze Our art could help take vividness to people but only if they had food. We shall not flag nor fail, wrote Churchill. Colors forgive flags—red as the fireskirt of the goddess Asherah, white as the gravity behind her eye, blue for the horizon unbuttoned so the next world can get through.

Human fabric is dragged out, being is sewn with terror or awe which is also joy. We searched for meaning ceaselessly.

my country poem assonance

I am a seamstress for the missing queen. I, it, we, you, he, they am, is, are sick about America. Je est un autre wrote Rimbaud code. Over the thirsty paddocks, The filmy veil of greenness That thickens as we gaze Core of my heart, my country!

my country song

We shall not flag nor fail, wrote Churchill. O shadow thread. I love her far horizons, I love her jewel-sea, Her beauty and her terror The wide brown land for me!

A poem which is not green from my country
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My Country by Dorothea Mackellar