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[23] And, westering still, the star which leads
     The New World in its train
Has tipped with fire the icy spears
     Of many a mountain chain.

The snowy cones of Oregon
     Are kindling on its way;
And California's golden sands
     Gleam brighter in its ray!

Then blessings on thy eagle quill,
     As, wandering far and wide,
I thank thee for this twilight dream
     And Fancy's airy ride!

Yet, welcomer than regal plumes,
     Which Western trappers find,
Thy free and pleasant thoughts, chance sown,
     Like feathers on the wind.

Thy symbol be the mountain-bird,
     Whose glistening quill I hold;
Thy home the ample air of hope,
     And memory's sunset gold!

In thee, let joy with duty join,
     And strength unite with love,
The eagle's pinions folding round
     The warm heart of the dove!

So, when in darkness sleeps the vale
     Where still the blind bird clings,

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