For there no yew nor cypress spread their glom But roses blossom'd each rustic tomb.

Who hail thee, Man! the pilgrim of the day, spouse of the worm, and brother of the clay.

To live in the hearts of others is not to die

Ye mariners of England! That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved a thousand years, The battle and the breeze!

The patriot's blood is the seed of Freedom's tree.

O star-eyed Science, hast thou wander'd there, To waft us home the message of despair?

Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep; Her march is o'er the mountain waves, Her home is on the deep.