BREATHES there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
'This is my own, my native land!'
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd
...
BREATHES there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
'This is my own, my native land!'
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd
...
TO mute and to material things
New life revolving summer brings;
The genial call dead Nature hears,
And in her glory reappears.
...
TO mute and to material things
New life revolving summer brings;
The genial call dead Nature hears,
And in her glory reappears.
...