Annual Report of the Wisconsin State Horticultural Society, Band 22

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[publisher not identified],], 1891
 

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Seite 223 - tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty, Of thee I sing; Land where my fathers died, Land of the pilgrim's pride, From every mountain side Let Freedom ring.
Seite 226 - When but an idle boy, I sought its grateful shade; In all their gushing joy Here, too, my sisters played. My mother kissed me here; My father pressed my hand — Forgive this foolish tear, But let that old oak stand.
Seite 223 - My native country, thee, Land of the noble, free, Thy name I love ; I love thy rocks and rills, Thy woo'ds and templed hills : My heart with rapture thrills Like that above.
Seite 226 - WOODMAN, spare that tree! Touch not a single bough; In youth it sheltered me, And I'll protect it now. 'Twas my forefather's hand That placed it near his cot; There, woodman, let it stand, Thy axe shall harm it not!
Seite 225 - He who plants a tree, — He plants love; Tents of coolness spreading out above Wayfarers, he may not live to see. Gifts that grow are best; Hands that bless are blest; Plant! life does the rest! Heaven and earth help him who plants a tree, And his work its own reward shall be.
Seite 223 - Let music swell the breeze, And ring from all the trees Sweet freedom's song : Let mortal tongues awake, Let all that breathe partake, Let rocks their silence break, The sound prolong. 4 Our father's God to thee, Author of liberty, To thee we sing: Long may our land be bright With freedom's holy light, Protect us by thy might, Great God, our King.
Seite 190 - THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view; The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood, And every loved spot which my infancy knew.
Seite 10 - The by-laws may be amended at any regular meeting by a two-thirds vote of...
Seite 223 - Give the children holidays, (And let these be jolly days,) Grant freedom to the children in this joyous Spring : Better men, hereafter, Shall we have, for laughter Freely shouted to the woods, till all the echoes ring.
Seite 226 - Here shall the wild-bird sing, And still thy branches bend. Old tree, the storm still brave ! And, woodman, leave the spot; — While I've a hand to save, Thy axe shall harm it not.

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