Maxioms by Thomas Campbell
He scorn'd his own, who felt another's woe.
He scorn'd his own, who felt another's woe.
Our land, the first garden of liberty's tree--
It has been, and shall be, the land of the free.
Our land, the first garden of liberty's tree--
It has been, and shall be, the land of the free.
To live in hearts we leave behind,
Is not to die.
To live in hearts we leave behind,
Is not to die.
'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore,
And coming events cast their shadows before.
'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore,
And coming events cast their shadows before.
For there no yew nor cypress spread their glom
But roses blossom'd each rustic tomb.
For there no yew nor cypress spread their glom
But roses blossom'd each rustic tomb.
