THE BROWNIES IN JULY.

That city stretching in its pride,

With streets so long, and parks so wide,
That holds the Hall where Congress broke
To flinders fine the monarch’s yoke,

To never after be resigned

To timber of that galling kind.

Around the table we will stand

Where people signed, with steady hand,
The document that did declare

Their home and country free as air.

We know what that act brought about—

Each fight, surrender, siege and rout,

Which followed soon the declaration

To found a free and mighty nation,

That like a link now lies between

The oceans boisterous and serene;

 

And while one part is wrapped in snow
Till trees bend down to earth below
With loads that storms have on them laid,
Still other parts are all arrayed

In flowers that sweetest fragrance send
To sunny skies that o’er them bend.
The war was long, and many fell,

As history’s pages fully tell.

No conflict of a year or two

Could such a commonwealth subdue, —
Nor could it cause the king to say

The colonies might go their way.

But seasons rolled, and still the fight

For liberty, or monarch’s right,
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