Cliffs of Scotland
Sixteen Americans who died on the Tuscania are buried at the water's edge at the base of the rocky cliffs at a Scottish port.—(News Dispatch.)
Cliffs of Scotland, guard them well,
Shield them from the blizzard’s rage;
Let your granite towers tell
That those sleeping heroes fell
In the service of their age.
Cliffs of Scotland, they were ours!
Now forever they are thine!
Guard them with your mighty powers!
Barren are your rocks of flowers,
But their splendor makes them fine.
Cliffs of Scotland, at your base
Freedom’s finest children lie;
Keep them in your strong embrace!
Tell the young of every race
Such as they shall never die.
Cliffs of Scotland, never more
Men shall think you stern and cold;
Splendor now has found your shore;
Unto you the ocean bore
Freedom’s precious sons to hold.
Otras obras de Edgar Albert Guest...
