M. J. Macmahon
Hail! land of drifting cloud and wooded mold,
Thy fairy scenes seem conjured by the hand
Of wizard king. Thy hills majestic stand
Aloft with time-bronzed brows searéd and old
And heavenward fling their nodding peaks on high,
The breezy zephyrs rush careering free;
The eagle waves his wing of liberty.
Here Nature reigns in grand sublimity;
Far through the southern haze Old Ocean gleams
Silvered with sunlight foam, and mounfully
Heaves his wild arms--with words inspired he seems,
Mutt'ring a prologue to Eternity.
God of my soul, on earth such scenes we find,
Guiding from them to Thee the human mind.