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OUR EAST.
Our East, long looking backward over sea, In loving study of what used to be, Has grown to treat our West with the same scorn England has had for us since we were born. You’d think to hear this Eastern judgment hard The West was just New England’s back yard! That all the West was made for, last and least, Was to raise pork and wheat to feed the East! A place to travel in, for rest and health, A place to struggle in and get the wealth, The only normal end of which, of course, Is to return to its historic source! Our Western acres, curving to the sun, The Western strength whereby our work is done, All Western progress, they attribute fair To Eastern Capital invested there! New England never liked old England’s scorn. Do they think theirs more easy to be borne? Or that the East, Britain’s rebellious child, Will find the grandson, West, more meek and mild? In union still our sovereignty has stood, A union formed with prayer and sealed with blood. We stand together. Patience, mighty West! Don’t mind this scolding from your last year’s nest!
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