They know not, in their hate and pride,
What virtues with thy children bide;
How true, how good, thy graceful maids
Make bright, like flowers, the valley shades;
What generous men
Spring, like thine oaks, by hill and glen.
What cordial welcomes greet the guest
By thy lone rivers of the West;
How faith is kept, and truth revered,
And man is loved and God is feared,
In woodland homes,
And where the ocean border foams.
There's freedom at thy gates, and rest
For earth's down-trodden and opprest;
A shelter for the hunted head;
For the starved laborer toil and bread.
Power, at thy bounds,
Stops, and calls back his baffled hounds.
O fair young mother! on thy brow
Shall sit a nobler grace than now.
Deep in the brightness of thy skies
The thronging years in glory rise,
And, as they fleet,
Drop strength and riches at thy feet.
Thine eye, with every coming hour,
Shall brighten, and thy form shall tower;
And when thy sisters, elder born,
Would brand thy name with words of scorn,
Before thy eye
Upon their lips the taunt shall die.
William Cullen Bryant
THE WESTERN LAND
Great Western land, whose mighty breast
Between two oceans finds its rest,
Begirt by storms on either side,
And washed by strong Pacific tide.
The knowledge of thy wondrous birth
Gave balance to the rounded earth;
In sea of darkness thou didst stand,
Now first in light, great Western land.
In thee the olive and the vine
Unite with hemlock and with pine;
In purest white the southern rose
Repeats the spotless northern snows.
Around thy zone a belt of maize
Rejoices in the sun's hot rays;
And all that Nature could command
She heaped on thee, great Western land.
Great Western land, whose touch makes free,
Advance to perfect liberty,
Till right shall make thy sov'reign might,
And every wrong be crushed from sight.
Behold thy day, thy time is here;
Thy people great, with naught to fear.
God hold thee in His strong right hand,
My well beloved Western land.