MY COUNTRY FROM sea to sea my country lies Far reach its plains, its hills are high, Its lakes are clear as crystal bright, America, my native land, To thee I give my heart and hand. God in His might chose thee to be MARIE ZETTERBERG. MY OWN LAND FOREVER LAND of the forest and the rock, Of dark blue lake and mighty river, Of mountains reared on high to mock The storm's career and lightning's shock, My own green land forever! HOME, SWEET HOME 'MID pleasures and palaces, though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home; A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there, Which, seek through the world, is not met with elsewhere. An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain; Oh, give me my lowly thatched cottage again; The birds singing gayly, that came at my call; Give me them, and that peace of mind, dearer than all. Home, home, sweet, sweet home, Oh, there's no place like home. The peaches are ripe in the orchard, And the grapes reach up to the sunshine Over the garden wall. The morns are meeker than they were, The berry's cheek is plumper, The rose is out of town. OCTOBER October glows on every tree, October shines in every eye, While up the hill and down the dale Her crimson banners fly. Nuts are falling, trees are bare, Leaves are whirling everywhere; Plants are sleeping, birds have flown, Autumn breezes cooler grown, In the chill November. AN AUTUMN RIDDLE THEY are seen on the trees, They are seen on the ground, They are seen in the air, Whirling softly around; They sing rustling songs As our footsteps they hear, And their name is well known, For they come every year. LEAVES AT PLAY SCAMPER, little leaves, about In the autumn sun; I can hear the old wind shout, Laughing as you run; And I haven't any doubt That he likes the fun. So run on and have your play, Romp with all your might; Dance across the autumn day, While the sun is bright. |