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Hail, our spreading kindred born!
Hail, thou banner, not yet torn!
Waving o'er the free!
While this day in festive throng,
Millions swell the patriot's song,
Shall we not the note prolong?
Who would sever Freedom's shrine?
Who would draw the invidious line?
Though by birth one spot be mine,
Dear is all the rest--
Dear to me the South's fair land;
Dear the central mountain band,
Dear New England's rocky strand,
Dear the prairied West.
By our altars pure and free,
By our laws' deep-rooted tree,
By the past's dread memory,
By our Washington--
By our common kindred tongue!
By our hopes-bright, buoyant, young,
By the tie of country strong,
We will still be one.
Fathers! have ye bled in vain?
Ages, must you droop again?
Maker, shall we rashly stain,
Blessings sent by Thee?
No! receive our solemn vow,
While before thy throne we bow,
Ever to maintain as now,
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