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MY NATIVE LAND, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: All tell me that thou art not fair, / beloved native land!
Last Line: How wondrous fair art thou!
Subject(s): Patriotism; Prussia

ALL tell me that thou art not fair,
Beloved native land!
No crown of mountain heights dost wear,
No robe of vines' green band;
No eagle in thy sky appears,
No palm-tree greets the eye;
But the primeval world's bright tears
Along they coast-lines lie.

No metals dost thou give the king,
Diamonds nor purple robe;
The truest hearts thy offering
That beat in all earth's globe.
For battle thou dost bring the steed
Worth tons of shining gold,
Strong men to curb the charger's speed
And the keen sword to hold.

And when I walk in dreamy hour
Through sombre fir-woods wide,
And see the mighty oak-trees tow'r
Aloft in royal pride;
When, echoing from Memel's strand,
Floats song of nightingale,
And o'er the distant dune's white sand
The snowy gull doth sail, --

Such blissful raptures o'er me throng
No language can convey;
I pour my joy forth in a song
Attuned to music gay.
E'en though thy robe is simple, and
No mountains crown thy brow,
Long live East Prussia! Native land,
How wondrous fair art thou!

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