Classic Poem

This is America:
These far-flung prairies, orchard lands,
Mountain heights robed with fir and pine
Wide plains that feed a starving world
When war's red banner is unfurled;
This God-lent wealth of field and mine;
Proud cities built by eager hands.

This is America:
These factories of fervent toil
And myriad marts of fruitful trade,
With busy streets of hope and zeal;
Fair shrines of art, that serve to heal
All wounds of soul, by conflict made;
Fair churches, built on freedom's soil.

This is America:
Our hope of peace and liberty;
Our dream of equal rights for all.
With no mad threats of tyrant lords,
No need have we of guns and swords.
May no dire fate our dreams befall!
God keep our land forever free!

This is America:
These far-flung prairies, orchard lands,
Mountain heights robed with fir and pine
Wide plains that feed a starving world
When war's red banner is unfurled;
This God-lent wealth of field and mine;
Proud cities built by eager hands.

This is America:
These factories of fervent toil
And myriad marts of fruitful trade,
With busy streets of hope and zeal;
Fair shrines of art, that serve to heal
All wounds of soul, by conflict made;
Fair churches, built on freedom's soil.

This is America:
Our hope of peace and liberty;
Our dream of equal rights for all.
With no mad threats of tyrant lords,
No need have we of guns and swords.
May no dire fate our dreams befall!
God keep our land forever free!