Love! The Surviving Gift Of Heaven, The

He Scorn'd His Own, Who Felt Another's Woe.

Beauty's Witching Sway Is Now To Me A Star That's Fallen-a Dream That's Passed Away.

Our Land, The First Garden Of Liberty's Tree-- It Has Been, And Shall Be, The Land Of The Free.

Triumphal Arch, That Fill'st The Sky When Storms Prepare To Part, I Ask Not Proud Philosophy To Teach Me What Thou Art.

O Star-eyed Science, Hast Thou Wander'd There, To Waft Us Home The Message Of Despair?