#Pennsylvania
In the pleasant time of Pentecost… By the little river Kyll, I followed the angler’s winding pa… Or waded the stream at will, And the friendly fertile German l…
The mountains that enfold the vale With walls of granite, steep and h… Invite the fearless foot to scale Their stairway toward the sky. The restless, deep, dividing sea
Time is Too Slow for those who Wait, Too Swift for those who Fear, Too Long for those who Grieve, Too Short for those who Rejoice;
Mother of all the high—strung poet… Mother of all the grass that weave… Mother of all the manifold forms o… Silent brooder and nurse of lyrica… Out of thee, yea, surely out of th…
Let me but love my love without di… Nor wear a mask of fashion old or… Nor wait to speak till I can hear… Nor play a part to shine in others… Nor bow my knees to what my heart…
If on the closed curtain of my sig… My fancy paints thy portrait far a… I see thee still the same, by nigh… Crossing the crowded street, or mo… 'Mid festal throngs, or reading by…
I envy every flower that blows Along the meadow where she goes, And every bird that sings to her, And every breeze that brings to he… The fragrance of the rose.
Thou warden of the western gate, a… The fogs of doubt that hid thy fac… Thine eyes at last look far and cl… To spread the light of liberty wor… No more thou dreamest of a peace r…
There are songs for the morning an… For sunrise and sunset, the stars… But who will give praise to the fu… And sing us a song of the glory of… Oh, the high noon, the clear noon,
Yours is a garden of old—fashioned… Joyous children delight to play th… Weary men find rest in its bowers, Watching the lingering light of da… Old—time tunes and young love’s la…
With memories old and wishes new We crown our cups again, And here’s to you, and here’s to y… With love that ne’er shall wane! And may you keep, at sixty—seven,
O Music hast thou only heard The laughing river, the singing bi… The murmuring wind in the poplar—t… Nothing but Nature’s melodies? Nay, thou hearest all her tones,
Now in the oak the sap of life is… Tho’ to the bough the rusty leafag… Now on the elm the misty buds are… See how the pine—wood grows alive… Blue—jays fluttering, yodeling and…
Not to the swift, the race: Not to the strong, the fight: Not to the righteous, perfect grac… Not to the wise, the light. But often faltering feet
Oh, gallantly they fared forth in… America’s crusading host of warrio… They battled for the rights of man… And now they’re coming home to us… Oh, it’s home again, and home agai…
