Of art’s fine workmanship and labor’s yield.
From the dark pines that fringe Aroostook’s wave
To the wild chapparal that rudely turns
The martial foot from Rio Bravo’s bank,
From the Atlantic’s many-peopled shore
To the Columbia’s vales of living green,
The joyful mandate rings, and man pours forth
His richest treasures to the gaze of day.
The nation sits in judgment on her arts,
Her choice productions and her fruitful glebes,