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  28  /  42  

There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and read more

There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill;
For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing.
To wander along by the wind-beaten hill.
But the day star attracted his eyes' sad devotion,
For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean,
Where once in the fire of his youthful emotion
He sang the bold anthem of Erin-go-bragh.

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  37  /  36  

My foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor.

My foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor.

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  12  /  17  

Yon Sun that sets upon the sea
We follow in his flight;
Farewell awhile to him and read more

Yon Sun that sets upon the sea
We follow in his flight;
Farewell awhile to him and thee,
My native land--Good Night!

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  24  /  23  

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our read more

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,
Are all with thee,--are all with thee!

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  9  /  16  

They love their land, because it is their own,
And scorn to give aught other reason why;
read more

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.

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  19  /  20  

Who dare to love their country, and be poor.

Who dare to love their country, and be poor.

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  30  /  29  

Our country is wherever we are well off.
[Lat., Patria est, ubicunque est bene.]

Our country is wherever we are well off.
[Lat., Patria est, ubicunque est bene.]

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  15  /  22  

From the lone shielding on the misty island
Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas--
But read more

From the lone shielding on the misty island
Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas--
But still the blood is strong, the heart is Highland,
And we in dreams behold the Hebrides.

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  16  /  18  

My dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent,
Long may thy read more

My dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent,
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!

by Robert Burns Found in: Love of country Quotes,
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