from America the Beautiful

O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America! God shed His grace on thee;
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!


Detrital blues. Many a graveyard
beckons. What there? God sprung His grace
on the countryside; And now we’re accustomed!

Katherine Lee Bates

Leave a Reply