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Rh Light hearts be theirs, the Muse’s boon, And may their suns blaze bright at noon,
 * And set without a cloud!

,9 whose music, like his themes, Lifts earth to heaven—whose poet-dreams Are pure and holy as the hymn Echoed from harps of seraphim, By bards that drank at Zion’s fountains
 * When glory, peace, and hope, were hers,

And beautiful upon her mountains
 * The feet of angel messengers.

, whose songs are thoughts that bless
 * The heart, its teachers, and its joy,

As mothers blend with their caress Lessons of truth and gentleness
 * And virtue for the listening boy

Spring’s lovelier flowers for many a day Have blossomed on his wandering way. Beings of beauty and decay,
 * They slumber in their autumn tomb;

But those that graced his own Green River,
 * And wreathed the lattice of his home,

Charmed by his song from mortal doom,
 * Bloom on, and will bloom on forever.

And —who has made thy roof, St. Tammany! oblivion-proof— Thy beer illustrious, and thee A belted knight of chivalry!