Maine

Maine, like Old Rome, stands on the hills
Her windows opened to the sky.
Her eyes the deep Atlantic sweep
Where stately ships go sailing by.
By her swift rivers cities rise
Where men pass to and fro;

Her face alight with happy dreams,
Her heart all warm with hopes that glow!
How sweet the songs the pine trees sing
How fair her fields when June-grass waves!
Like pilgrims, weary men of earth
Turn to the shores the ocean laves;
Though winter holds her to its breast
As tempest wild sweeps in the night
Love folds her soul - and holds her soul
Within the glory of its light.

Her sons have loved her - fought for her
And peered beyond their present ken.
The vastness of the shade she casts
Falls far across a world of men.
She is the moulder and the guide
Of virile souls who know not fear:
She is a Leader! and inspires
Her sons to deeds all men revere.

All hail to Maine and to her Sons!
Honor is theirs on land and sea.
The blood of Statesmen thrills her life,
Of Dreamer - Poets that shall be.
State crowned by Canada's broad land.
Far greater days for her shall dawn:
Upon her steadfast, frost-hewn hills
The thoughts that sway the world are born.
Elizabeth Powers Merrill