All hail to thee, noble and generous Land! br With thy prairies boundless and wide, br Thy mountains that tower like sentinels grand, br Thy lakes and thy rivers of pride! br br Thy forests that hide in their dim haunted shades br New flowers of loveliness rare— br Thy fairy like dells and thy bright golden glades, br Thy warm skies as Italy’s fair. br br Here Plenty has lovingly smiled on the soil, br And ’neath her sweet, merciful reign br The brave and long suff’ring children of toil br Need labor no longer in vain. br br I ask of thee shelter from lawless harm, br Food—raiment—and promise thee now, br In return, the toil of a stalwart arm, br And the sweat of an honest brow. br br But think not, I pray, that this heart is bereft br Of fond recollections of home; br That I e’er can forget the dear land I have left br In the new one to which I have come. br br Oh no! far away in my own sunny isle br Is a spot my affection worth, br And though dear are the scenes that around me now smile, br More dear is the place of my birth! br br There hedges of hawthorn scent the sweet air, br And, thick as the stars of the night, br The daisy and primrose, with flow’rets as fair, br Gem that soil of soft verdurous light.