This is the land of
Mears ,
Where the shining sand dunes gleam Under the western sky ,
By the side of the wide blue sea Where the light - house sends its nightly beara
And the smoking ships go by .
The shore - birds walk upon the sand Beside the water - line
And hear the waves that swish or rear They hear the whisper of their friends , The juniper and pine ,
That fringe the Golden shore .
This is the orchard clime
Where peaches and cherries grow And apple blosscms scent the breeze : For the lake has tempered the air Of the on - shore winds that blow Over the fruit - land trees .
The lakes and hills we cannot lose : The beauty of the landscape view Is ours for all the years .
We like the land of Mears And if we'd go go away
The sand dunes , lakes and plain , The maple trees and colored bills Would call to us until the day That we return again .
BY SWIFT LATHERS
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