DEAR COUNTRY MINE.
BY RICHARD WATSON GILDER.
Dear country mine! far in that viewless west,
And ocean-warded, strife thou too hast known;
But may thy sun hereafter bloodless shine,
And may thy way be onward without wrath,
And upward on no carcass of the slain;
And if thou smitest let it be for peace
And justice—not in hate, or pride, or lust
Of empire. Mayst thou ever be, O land,
Noble and pure as thou art free and strong;
So shalt thou lift a light for all the world
And for all time, and bring the Age of Peace.
—By permission, From "Five Books of Song."
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.
THE FOUR MacNICOLS.