THE STATUE OF LIBERTY.

Sing of the Venus de Milo,

The lady without any arms;

Sing of the Venus of this and of that,

And tell of their marvelous charms:

Rave of your wonderful statues,

In divers lands here o'er the sea,

In bushels and reams, but the Girl of our Dreams

Is our godmother, Miss Liberty.

Its contour may not be perfection —

Its technique we really do n't know —

If you ever asked, “Who was the artist?”

It would come as a terrible blow.

But to us it is home, friends and Country,

To us it means all that is best,

‘ Tis the first that lifts out of the waters

Of “Our little Gray Home in the West.”

‘ Tis the first on that endless horizon

Where the clouds meet the wind driven spume,

And the scavenger gulls wing to greet us

From out of the gathering gloom —

‘ Tis the first that calls beckoning to us

Through the mist of the swaggering sea —

“Oh lay down your guns my knight-errant sons,

And come back to the bosom of me.”