Where flies our flag is Freedom's holy ground;

There, it unfurls all benisons to Man.

The twin of Spring, its spread unfolds God's plan

Of human happiness, by setting bound

To greed, lust, powers,—all colds,—that Right be crowned.

Lo! where it leads, ye youth form valor's van,

Mirrored and echoed by the azure's span

For ages, for Man's gain in yours is wound.

Oh, justice's Hot Gulf Stream are ye, who open

The sea, which fiendish craft has frozen hard!

Oh, may your warmth for righteousness transform

The tyrant's artic region, with no hope in,

To Freedom's Temperate Zone, which they, who guard

The planets, save from wreck by quake or storm.