The Art of Painting Countrysides

Truth founded in Landscape
Where determinants May
Form chains of circumstance
That lead all different Fates
Where mountains and black pines
Shape directions of thought
And more than cartography
As the maps are finally drawn

The Dismal Swamp then stretching
To Carolinian borders
And framed, burnt sienna
The far-off sound of water
Maybe placed, for some reason
A chance consideration
Based upon the human Vision
Geographical risks, then taken

The swiftly-flowing undercurrents
Or stagnant-breeding moss
Recorded somewhat faintly
Of that sense, which is lost
Separation of Culture
And traditions, that, once-bred
By the building of a Mountain range
And the way the Rivers head

Yet--in flags, and in accents
Well, perhaps there yet is Truth
To take account the differences
Of atmospheric influences, too
While bondage-kept and crops
Based on climate and ground
The pattern of rising conflict
Is there, formed around

And ocean-shaping constant
But looking inland, then
Perhaps reconciling
The blindness found in Men
Bot towards formed excuses tho'
But a faint chance to regain
The riding harshness, beauty found
We revisit it again

And the contours of Lines
Drawn fit-scaled and still
A Testament, facing
A contest formed of Will
The mountains and hinterlands
All to protest
But still, standing unafraid
A conflict to attest