Where the cypress' dusky green,

And the dark magnolia's sheen,

Weave a shelter round my home.

There the snow-storms never come;

There the bannered mosses gray

Like a curtain gently sway,

Hanging low on every side

Round the covert where I bide,

Till the March azalea glows,

Royal red and heavenly rose,

Through the Carolina glade

Where my winter home is made.

There I hold my southern court,

Full of merriment and sport:

There I take my ease and sing,

Happy kingdom! Lucky king!

III

 Little boaster, vagrant king, Neither north nor south is yours, You've no kingdom that endures! Wandering every fall and spring, With your ruby crown so slender, Are you only a Pretender, Landless king?

Little boaster, vagrant king,

Neither north nor south is yours,

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