A dozen spires against the sky--
A plain of roofs--the circled glow
Of one great dome--a canyon'd street--
The prisoned river far below;
Shrill echoes of a teeming way--
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A whistle's Iron-throated cry--
The clatter of a road of stone--
Unnumbered steps that murmur by.
The savage knew thy triple hill,
The dauntless Pilgrim turned to thee,
Thy snowy street was first to bear
The crimson flower of liberty.
Thy sons were champion of the slave,
Thy children fashioned Cuba's fate--
And still a mighty work is thine,
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Heavy 1915 Football Material
