Heaped with the grape of Cintra’s vine,
And golden orange of the line,
The fruit of the apple tree.
The fruitage of this apple tree,
Winds and our flag of stripe and star
Shall bear to coasts that lie afar,
Where men shall wonder at the view,
And ask in what fair groves they grew;
And sojourners beyond the sea
Shall think of childhood’s careless day,