The Land’s Call
O land I love, I hear your call, Your ancient strength and pride; In every blade and flower small, Your heartless self you hide.
Through golden fields and forested air, In winds that sing to me, Your whisper stirs the soul of land, And weds the sea to story.
For every seed that breaks the ground, Each child of earth and sky, Shall bear the dream that knows no bound, In nature’s arms shall die.
- Mary Gilmore