Bow down, dear Land, for thou hast found release! Thy God, in these distempered days,

Hath taught thee the sure wisdom of his ways,

And through thine enemies hath wrought thy peace!

Bow down in prayer and praise! O Beautiful! my Country! ours once more!

Smoothing thy gold of war-dishevelled hair

O'er such sweet brows as never other wore,

And letting thy set lips, Freed from wrath's pale eclipse,

The rosy edges of their smile lay bare,

What words divine of lover or of poet

Could tell our love and make

thee know it,

Among the Nations bright beyond compare?

What were our lives without thee?

What all our lives

thee?

We reck not what

thee;

to save

we gave

We will not dare to doubt thee,

But ask whatever else, and we will dare!

J. R. LOWELL.