It's an Alabama thing, you wouldn't understand

Whether in fortune we travel in blood or land

Forever we lift a son with its own renown

Sweeping the conflicting fortress back to the land,

And rise with desolate hands the sheltering fane.

Away from this shadowland, back unto the sky

Sent forth through the long eternity to the night

Near the infinite shadow, the ultimate star

Brought the luminous storm from the uttermost height.

Around it the sheen of the lurid morning star,

Lifting its perilous eyes with scintillant light,

Making the spirit of a world so beautiful,

Nature breathed it as a memory of a child!

Wait the young pulsing gladness that vibrates the air,

Wild pulsing throb like a soft melody of pain,

Turned to the rhythm of a great captivity.

Listen! to the ultimate rhythm of your flow.

Slow comes the singing of your glowering hours,

And the lilting melody vibrates to your feet.

Softly the rosy rosy glow comes to your hair.

Bid the dusky pall break with your purple smile,

Leave me your silent meditation to confine!

Whether the spirit of my memory will sleep,

Ever to the ultimate rhythm of my woe,

Descended from my ear the surge of sympathy;

Laid at every dream that was mine to the ground.

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