Thomas Campbell ( 10 of 46 )
Ye field flowers! the gardens eclipse you 'tis true:
Yet wildings of nature, I dote upon you,
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Ye field flowers! the gardens eclipse you 'tis true:
Yet wildings of nature, I dote upon you,
For ye waft me to summers of old,
When the earth teem'd around me with fairy delight,
And when daisies and buttercups gladden'd my sight,
Like treasures of silver and gold.
In England three are sixty different religions, and only one
sauce.
[It., Il y en Angleterre soizante sectes read more
In England three are sixty different religions, and only one
sauce.
[It., Il y en Angleterre soizante sectes religieuses differentes,
et une seule sauce.]
What's hallowed ground? Has earth a clod
Its Maker mean'd not should be trod
By man, the read more
What's hallowed ground? Has earth a clod
Its Maker mean'd not should be trod
By man, the image of his God,
Erect and free,
Unscourged by Superstition's rod.
Ye mariners of England!
That guard our native seas;
Whose flag has braved a thousand years,
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Ye mariners of England!
That guard our native seas;
Whose flag has braved a thousand years,
The battle and the breeze!
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.
When love came first to earth, the Spring
Spread rose-beds to receive him.
When love came first to earth, the Spring
Spread rose-beds to receive him.
United States, your banner wears
Two emblems--one of fame;
Alas! the other that it bears
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United States, your banner wears
Two emblems--one of fame;
Alas! the other that it bears
Reminds us of your shame.
Your banner's constellation types
White freedom with its stars,
But what's the meaning of the stripes?
They mean your negroes' scars.
Oh, leave this barren spot to me!
Spare, woodman, space the beechen tree!
Oh, leave this barren spot to me!
Spare, woodman, space the beechen tree!
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.
