Maxioms by Fitz-greene Halleck
They love their land, because it is their own,
And scorn to give aught other reason why;
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They love their land, because it is their own,
And scorn to give aught other reason why;
Would shake hands with a king upon his throne,
And think it kindness to his majesty.
I cannot spare the luxury of believing that all things beautiful are what they seem.
I cannot spare the luxury of believing that all things beautiful are what they seem.
Strike--for your altars and your fires;
Strike--for the green graves of your sires.
God--and your native land!
Strike--for your altars and your fires;
Strike--for the green graves of your sires.
God--and your native land!
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word;
And in its hollow tones are heard
The thanks of read more
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word;
And in its hollow tones are heard
The thanks of millions yet to be.
Lord Stafford mines for coal and salt,
The Duke of Norfolk deals in malt,
The Douglas in read more
Lord Stafford mines for coal and salt,
The Duke of Norfolk deals in malt,
The Douglas in red herrings.
