There is a little place in me </br> That cries like any child, </br> To be as forest things are, free, </br> Lonely, and strange and wild! - Blanche Shoemaker Wagstaff

She stands, a guardian of the endless sea, </br> Her garb is golden, and her lips are flame, </br> She is the portal of Eternity </br> And Beauty is the realm from whence she came! </br> She is the voice of many bleeding lands— </br> America, she calls! To Arms! Arise! </br> For like a shimmering sabre in the skies </br> In scarlet glow she stands </br> A guardian of the earth and sea— </br> Liberty!

Bring me a languid woman, perfumed, young, </br> Her dusky body hung with dazzling gems </br> And strange, exotic iridescent stuffs — </br> Her wanton eyes like thirsty summer moons.

Bring me a pale flower-boy, </br> White-limbed like a young heifer in a field, </br> His lips a-quiver with unknown desire.... </br> His soft throat virgin beneath my kiss, </br> His bosom like a bower of stars.