THE LAND OF THE PINE.
I.
The land of the pine,
The cedar, the vine,
Oh! may this blessed land ever be mine;
Lose not in air
Breezes that bear
Blossoms and odors, the song and the prayer.
II.
Take not from mine eye
The blue of its sky,
Bid not the soul of its loveliness die;
Still let me see
The bloom on its tree
Still bring its blossoms and blessings to me.
III.
The mountain, the vale,
Each hath a tale
Of valor that shrunk not in days of our bale—
Valor that stood
Fearless, though blood
Stream'd from his gushing veins, free, like a flood.
IV.
And oh! may the song
The burden prolong,
That told of our solace in days of our wrong;
Woman's sweet strain,
Rising o'er pain,
Cheering her warrior to combat again!
