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 O Tallmadge95 of the Upper House,
 * And Crolius96 of the lower,

After “non nobis, Domine,”
 * Thus saith the Governor:

It seems by general admission,
 * That, as a nation, we are thriving;

Settled in excellent condition,
 * Bargaining, building, and beehiving;

That each one fearlessly reclines
 * Beneath his “fig-tree and his vines”

(The dream of philosophic man),
 * And all is quiet as a Sunday,

From Orleans to the Bay of Fundy,
 * From Beersheba to Dan.

I’ve climbed my country’s loftiest tree,
 * And reached its highest bough, save one.

Why not the highest?—blame not me;
 * “What man dare” do, I’ve done.