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BY J. O. BLYTHE, M. D.
I LOVE thee well, New England,
Thy breath is sweet to me, As perfume off the vineyards,
Or spices from the sea ; As sunlight to the vision,
Or music in the ear, As health to all the living, Or joy's enraptured tear. Chorus — Then up ! and still, New England, Be Liberty ! thy cry, And while a heart still beateth, Freedom shall never die.
I love thee well, New England,
My heart is on thy hills, Amowg thy rugged mountains,
Beside the rippling rills ; Along thy rushing rivers,
Beneath the silver pines, Upon thy liquid lakelets,
Margined by purple vines.
Then up! and still, New England, Be Liberty ! thy cry,