Monrovia, February 28, 1830
My new land lies before my eyes
Lush green growth from shore to mountains.
Deep in the brush, a strange bird cries
And water flows from cool fountains.
A harbor deep where natives trade
And foreign ships display their wares.
Our people come with ax and spade
To work unfettered by past cares.
Our enterprise, my friend, is sure
You’ll not regret decisions drawn.
This country new, it will endure.
It radiates the glow of dawn.
Your friend, and partner,
(Written for dVersepoets. Poetics–Sent With A Stamp. August 17, 2013.)