The Caswell News
Imf
Volume
2
Carolina Our Stride
Carolina, the pride of my bosom,
Carolina, the land of the free,
Carolina, the land of my fathers,
Carolina, my song is of thee.
From Mitchell, the pride of the mountains,
To Hatteras, the dread of the sea,
The sunshine of liberty gladdens
And tyranny trembles at thee.
Her honor is high as the summit
Of Mitchell, her loftiest peak,
Her vigor is that of the Roman,
Her spirit is that of the Greek.
Her daughters are bright as the sunshine
That lightens the hills of the west,
And fair as the rose of the valley
That blushes and blooms on her breast.
On her vine-clad sands of the ocean,
Where Manteo greeted the whites,
Were laid the first aches of empire
And freedom looked down from its heights.
She felt the first tread of the Anglo
And Saxon to people this land,
Tho’ rude was the welcome she gave them,
And rough the fierce gale on her strand.
What tho’ the grim hand of disaster
Swept over the island and sea;
(Poem concluded on page 3)
IHUJ
Number
7
SEPTEMBER, 1937