O, MISSOURI, HOW ART THOU FALLEN!

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WRITTEN IN PRISON.

Missouri, a country how sad and how low,
How fallen from glory, from freedom, from pride,
O, would that oblivion its mantle would throw
O'er thee, and the depth of thy wickedness hide.

Thou should'st never rejoice—think not of the day
When Columbia for freedom first struggled so bold,
When thousands assembled in battle array,
The star-spangled banner of freedom unfurled;

Think not of the patriots that bled in her cause,
Who met all undaunted the foemen's dark brow,
They gave to their country beneficent laws
Of right and protection but where are they now?

Disturb not the rest of the free and the brave,
Enshrined deep in honor they sweetly repose,
They swore that the banner of freedom should wave
O'er their dear native land regardless of foes,

But thou, O Missouri, hast trampled on all
That free men would fight for or patriots feel
O thou queen of the west how great is thy fall—
Thy wounds deep and deadly no balsam can heal.

Let us fly, let us fly to the land where the light
Of Liberty's stars still illumine each spot,
Where the cottager's smile for ever is bright,
And the chains of a tyrant encircle us not.

In the fair Illinois the eagle's bold wing
Is stretched o'er a people determined and free,
And the shouts of her sons in melody ring
O'er her bower covered groves and fine prairie.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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