Classic Poem

O Tree of Liberty, thou Tree of Life,
Without thee what were all the golden South?
The Cid's rich song from ripe Castilian mouth.
The eyes' black velvet of each gay girl-wife;
The scarlet nopal, jasmine's earth-born star;
The low bird-language of the light guitar
Wooed by love's wandering hand;
And teocalli grand,
With scroll and sculptured face of mild command;
Querêtaro's wave-worn arches, one long mile
Of marching giants; Viga's floating isle;
Cholula's hill-shrine of the all-worshipped Sun;
Huge cypress shade; all Aztec spoils in one,
Without thee were most vile.