Weren't the last drop in the well,
As I gasp'd upon the brink,
Ere my fainting spirit read more

Weren't the last drop in the well,
As I gasp'd upon the brink,
Ere my fainting spirit fell,
'Tis to thee that I would drink.

Here's to our beloved George Washington, the Joshua of America,
who commanded the sun and the moon to sand read more

Here's to our beloved George Washington, the Joshua of America,
who commanded the sun and the moon to sand still--and they
obeyed.

I am from Massachusetts,
The land of the sacred cod,
There the Adamses snub the Abootts
read more

I am from Massachusetts,
The land of the sacred cod,
There the Adamses snub the Abootts
And the Cabots walk with God.

St. Leon raised his kindling eye,
And lifts the sparkling cup on high;
"I drink to one," read more

St. Leon raised his kindling eye,
And lifts the sparkling cup on high;
"I drink to one," he said,
"Whose image never may depart,
Deep graven on this grateful heart,
Till memory be dead."
. . . .
St. Leon paused, as if he would
Not breathe her name in careless mood
Thus lightly to another;
Then bent his noble head, as though
To give the word the reverence due,
And gently said, "My mother!"

Our federal Union: it must be preserved.

Our federal Union: it must be preserved.

But the standing toast that pleased me most
Was, "The wind that blows, the ship that goes,
read more

But the standing toast that pleased me most
Was, "The wind that blows, the ship that goes,
And the lass that loves a sailor!"

Drink to me with thine eyes alone; or if thou wilt, having put it
to thy lips, fill the read more

Drink to me with thine eyes alone; or if thou wilt, having put it
to thy lips, fill the cup with kisses, and so give it me.

Here's to the red of it,
There's not a thread of it,
No, not a shred of read more

Here's to the red of it,
There's not a thread of it,
No, not a shred of it,
In all the spread of it,
From foot to head,
Not heroes bled for it,
Faced steel and lead for it,
Precious blood shed for it,
Bathing in red.

I fill this cup to one made up
Of loveliness alone,
A woman, of her gentle sex
read more

I fill this cup to one made up
Of loveliness alone,
A woman, of her gentle sex
The seeming paragon;
To whom the better elements
And kindly stars have given
A form so fair that, like the air,
'Tis less of earth than heaven.