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O beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain, For purple mountains majesties Above the fruited plain. America! America! God shed His grace on thee, And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea. - America, the Beautiful, first stanza of a song [America] They shall not pass till the stars be darkened: Two swords crossed in front of the Hun; Never a groan but God has harkened, Counting their cruelties one by one. - Crossed Swords [War]
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