Sand, sand, long leagues of heath and barren sand !1
Long formal lines of dark unlovely pine !2
Know thus the cradle of the mighty land3
Whose lord now sways from Danube to the Rhine.4
Blest in their barrenness full sure were they,5
Lords of a harsh soil and a frosty clime,6
Where thrift and virtue, and in frugal way7
To live, sowed seeds of strength for ripening time.8
Wise, if they keep the memory of their birth,9
And grow, severcly strong, as Frederick grew,10
Not shaking wanton wings of sensual mirth11
Rampant, but to the manful maxim true12
That made men wonder at their mounting star—13
Still strive for peace, but never flinch from war.14