Our Land, The First Garden

What Millions Died That Caesar Might Be Great!

On The Green Banks Of Shannon, When Sheelah Was Nigh, No Blithe Irish Lad Was So Happy As I, No Harp Like My Own Could So Cheerily Play, And Wherever I Went Was My Poor Dog Tray.

Triumphal Arch, That Fill'st The Sky When Storms Prepare To Part, I Ask Not Proud Philosophy To Teach Me What Thou Art.

To Live In The Hearts Of Others Is Not To Die

How Delicious Is The Winning Of A Kiss At Love's Beginning, When Two Mutual Hearts Are Sighing For The Knot There's No Untying!