O happy Land!

The Happy Land!

Studded with cheerful homesteads, fair to see,

With garden grace and household symmetry:

How grand the wide-brow'd peasant's lordly mien,

The matron's smile serene!

O happy, happy Land!

The Happy Land!

Half-hid in the dewy grass the mower blithe

Sings to the day-star as he whets his scythe;

And to his babes at eventide again

Carols as blithe a strain.

O happy, happy Land!

The Happy Land!

Where in the golden sheen of autumn eves

The bright hair'd children play among the sheaves;

Or gather ripest apples all the day,

As ruddy-cheek'd as they.

O happy, happy Land!

O Happy Land!

The thin smoke curleth through the frosty air;

The light smiles from the windows: hearken there

To the white grandsire's tale of heroes old,

To flame-eyed listeners told.

O happy, happy Land!

O Happy, Happy Land!

The tender-foliaged alders scarcely shade

Yon loitering lover and glad blushing maid.

O happy Land I, the spring that quickens thee

Is human liberty.

O happy, happy Land!