O’ Virginia: all rolling hills, blue-lavender
mountains, and Appalachian twang, country
stores and Dinosaur Land. O’ Virginia,
Virginia, your red-bells roadside, your light,
your sorrow, your tin-pan songs and screeching
owls; the Shenandoah’s black bark and quick
flowing creeks, your cattle, your thorough-
breds, your cool evenings, and crimson cheeks.
Grapes draped o’er vineyard lines, the crisp
tang of Virginia wines.
O’ Virginia! Virginia!
Jackson and Jefferson and Washington and
Lee, the days of chivalry, fleeing to be
free. Virginia, O’ Virginia, your land—green,
so green! My son comes to you, young
chestnut, plants his roots, sure of his
gut. As he walks the long colonnade will he
hear your beat, the sweat-drenched scent of
a tattered fleet? O’Virginia what will you do!
Feed him, hug him, see him through— highland,
lowland, swift rivers, morning dew.