I Love Your Hills And I Love

In The Long Vista Of The Years To Roll,\ Let Me Not See My Country's Honor Fade;\ Oh! Let Me See Our Land Retain Its Soul!\ Her Pride In Freedom, And Not Freedom's Shade.

Closer Of Lovely Eyes To Lovely Dreams, Lover Of Loneliness, And Wandering, Of Upcast Eye, And Tender Pondering! Thee Must I Praise Above All Other Glories That Smile Us On To Tell Delightful Stories.

I Will Clamber Through The Clouds And Exist.

I Have Two Luxuries To Brood Over In My Walks, Your Loveliness And The Hour Of My Death. O That I Could Have Possession Of Them Both In The Same Minute.

Every Fresh Experience Points Out Some Form Of Error Which We Shall Afterwards Carefully Avoid.