Oliver Wendell Holmes

“ To all their heav'n-ly col - ors true. In
kin - dies all the sun - set land: O tell us what its
op'n - ing leaves were streaked with blood, Till lo! earth's ty - rants
spot - less white from north - ern snows, And, span - gled o'er its
waves where lone - ly sen - tries tread; It makes the land as
black'n-ing frost or crim - son dew,— And God love us as
name may be,— Is this the Flower of Lib - er - ty? ”