O beautiful for heroes prov'd In liberating strife, Who more than self their country loved, And mercy more than life. America! America! May God thy g… - Katharine Lee Bates

I am the drawn sword barring the lanes thy mutinous feet Vainly covet for greenness. Loitering pace or fleet, Thine is the crag-path chosen. On the crest shall rest be sweet.

Though earth be but an outpost of delight, Heaven"s wild frontier by tragedy beset, Only a Shakespeare may her gifts requite. Only a happy Raphael pay his debt. Yet I, to whom, even as to these, are given Cascading foam, emblazoned butterflies, The moon"s pearl chariot through the massed clouds driven, And the divinity of loving eyes, Would make my peace now with mine hostess Earth, Give and take pardon for all brief annoy, And toss her, far beneath my lodging"s worth, Poor that I am, a coin of golden joy.

Here is princely interchange Of the gifts of shore and field, Starred with treasures rare and strange That the liberal sea-chests yield. Culture here burns breezy torch Where gray captains, bronzed of neck Tread their little length of porch With a memory of the deck. Ah, and here the tenderest hearts, Here where sorrows sorest wring And the widows shift their parts Comforted and comforting. Holy bell of Paul Revere Calling such to prayer and praise. While a hundred times the year Herds her flock of faithful days!