_Hail Columbia_. J. HOPKINSON.
Around I see
The powers that be;
I stand by Empire's primal springs;
And princes meet
In every street,
And hear the tread of uncrowned kings!
* * * * *
Not lightly fall
Beyond recall
The written scrolls a breath can float;
The crowning fact
The kingliest act
Of Freedom is the freeman's vote!
_The Eve of Election_. J.G. WHITTIER.
Down to the Plymouth Rock, that had been to their feet as a doorstep
Into a world unknown,--the corner-stone of a nation!
_Courtship of Miles Standish_. H.W. LONGFELLOW.
They love their land because it is their own,
And scorn to give aught other reason why;
Would shake hands with a king upon his throne,
And think it kindness to his majesty.
_Connecticut_. F-G. HALLECK.
How has New England's romance fled,
Even as a vision of the morning!
Its right foredone,--its guardians dead,--
Its priestesses, bereft of dread,
Waking the veriest urchin's scorning!
* * * * *
And now our modern Yankee sees
Nor omens, spells, nor mysteries;
And naught above, below, around,
Of life or death, of sight or sound,
Whate'er its nature, form, or look,
Excites his terror or surprise,--
All seeming to his knowing eyes
Familiar as his "catechize,"
Or "Webster's Spelling-Book.
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