New England

What though they boast of fairer lands, Give me New England's hallowed soil, The fearless hearts, the swarthy hands Stamped with the heraldry of toil. I love her valleys broad and fair, The pathless wood, the gleaming lake, The bold and rocky bastions, where The billows of the ocean break; The grandeur of each mountain peak That lifts to heaven its granite form, The craggy cliffs where eagles shriek, Amid the thunder and the storm. And dear to me each noble deed Wrought by the iron wills of yore,— The Pilgrim hands that sowed the seed Of freedom on her sterile shore.