MY COUNTRY.
I love my country's vine-clad hills, Her thousand bright and gushing rills, Her sunshine and her storms; Her rough and rugged rocks that rear Their hoary heads high in the air, In wild fantastic forms.
I love her rivers deep and wide, Those mighty streams that seaward glide, To seek the ocean's breast; Her smiling fields, her pleasant vales, Her shady dells, her flowery dales-- Abodes of peaceful rest.
I love her forests, dark and lone, For there the wild-bird's merry tone I hear from morn till night; And lovelier flowers are there, I ween, Than e'er in Eastern lands were seen In varied colors bright.
Her forests and her valleys fair, Her flowers that scent the morning air, All have their charms for me; But more I love my country's name, Those words that echo deathless fame-- The Land of Liberty.
