'Twas the blood of the Saxon within them that ran; They held—to be free is the birthright of man. - Arthur Cleveland Coxe

And so we shake </br> The snowy flake </br> From cedar and myrtle fair; </br> And the boughs that nod </br> On the hills of God, </br> We raise to his glory there.

'Tis the night—the night </br> Of the grave's delight, </br> And the warlocks are at their play! </br> Ye think that without, </br> The wild winds shout, </br> But no, it is they—it is they!

The singing of birds, </br> A warbling band, </br> And flowers, are words </br> Which even a babe may understand.