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by Isaac McLellan

Far in the sunset's mellow glory,
Far in the day-break's pearly bloom,
Fringed by ocean's foamy surges,
Belted in by woods of gloom,
Stretch thy soft, luxuriant borders,
Smile thy shores, in hill and plain,
Flower-enamelled, ocean-girdled,
Green bright shores of Maine.

Rivers of surpassing beauty
From thy hemlock woodlands flow,—
Androscoggin and Penobscot,
Saco, chilled by northern snow;
These from many a lowly valley
Thick by pine-trees shadowed o'er,
Sparkling from their ice-cold tributes
To the surges of thy shore.

Bays resplendent as the heaven,
Starred and gemmed by thousand isles,
Gird thee,—Casco with its islets,
Quoddy with its dimpled smiles;
O'er them swift the fisher's shallop
And tall ships their wings expand,
While the smoke-flag of the steamer
Flaunteth out its cloudy streamer,
Bound unto a foreign strand.

Bright from many a rocky headland,
Fringed by sands that shine like gold,
Gleams the light-house, white and lonely,
Grim as some baronial hold.
Bright by many an ocean valley
Shaded hut and village shine;
Roof and steeple, weather-beaten,
Stained by ocean's breath of brine.

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