Mexico

Within thy blue-domed Garden of Delight,
Dwells the elusive Spirit of Content,
And makes thy people's lot beneficent.
With thee her wings forget their trick of flight,
And brood above thy dwellers day and night.
For thee Euterpe brings her blandishment,
And Beauty hath her cornucopia spent.
They winds are sheathed with velvet, and their might
Is tempered to the little naked child.
God made thee for the old and shelterless,
And bids fair Nature hide her moods morose.
Thy patios with violets are tiled,
The air enfolds thee in its warm caress,
And Summer never bids thee adios!