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.

But to the hero, when his sword
Has won the battle for the free,
Thy voice sounds read more

But to the hero, when his sword
Has won the battle for the free,
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word,
And in its hollow tones are heard
The thanks of millions yet to be.

There is an evening twilight of the heart,
When its wild passion-waves are lulled to rest.

There is an evening twilight of the heart,
When its wild passion-waves are lulled to rest.

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!

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.