"America for Me" by Henry Van Dyke

'TIS fine to see the Old World, and travel up and down
    Among the famous palaces and cities of renown,
    To admire the crumbly castles and the statues of the kings,—
    But now I think I've had enough of antiquated things. 

           So it's home again, and home again, America for me!
           My heart is turning home again, and there I long to be,
           In the land of youth and freedom beyond the ocean bars,
           Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars! 

 

    Oh, London is a man's town, there's power in the air;
    And Paris is a woman's town, with flowers in her hair;
    And it's sweet to dream in Venice, and it's great to study Rome;
    But when it comes to living there is no place like home. 

    I like the German fir-woods, in green battalions drilled;
    I like the gardens of Versailles with flashing fountains filled;
    But, oh, to take your hand, my dear, and ramble for a day
    In the friendly western woodland where Nature has her way! 

    I know that Europe's wonderful, yet something seems to lack:
    The Past is too much with her, and the people looking back.
    But the glory of the Present is to make the Future free,—
    We love our land for what she is and what she is to be. 

           Oh, it's home again, and home again, America for me!
           I want a ship that's westward bound to plough the rolling sea,
           To the bléssed Land of Room Enough beyond the ocean bars,
           Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of star.

--Henry Van Dyke, 1909

This was my grandfather's favorite poem. We used to talk on the phone almost every day, and we often talked about poetry. Once he asked me if I could find a poem for him - about America, by a guy named Henry. I found it, and this was the one.


Grandpa traveled a lot in his life - he was in the military for 15 years, fighting in the Pacific in WWII and the Korean War. He flew airplanes, and he was support for that terrible battle in Burma. He always loved Utah and Cache Valley and he loved this country, and when we would read this poem together he would tear up a little bit. At my Dad's request, I read this poem at Grandpa's funeral last Saturday. Grandpa died on November 29, 2011.