I love my country's vine-clad hills, Her thousand bright and gushing¹ rills, Her sunshine and her storms； Her rough and rugged² rocks that rear Their hoary³ heads high in the air, In wild fantastic forms.

    I love her rivers deep and wide, Those mighty⁴ streams that seaward glide⁵, To seek the ocean's breast； Her smiling fields, her pleasant vales, Her shady dells, her flowery dales—— Abodes⁶ of peaceful rest.

    I love her forests, dark and lone⁷, For there the wild-bird's merry tone I hear from morn till night； And lovelier flowers are there, I ween, Than e'er in Eastern lands were seen In varied⁸ colors bright.

    Her forests and her valleys fair, Her flowers that scent⁹ the morning air, All have their charms for me； But more I love my country's name, Those words that echo deathless fame—— The Land of Liberty.