Spring up, fair Arab! Heed the call, The Autumn tweets the Tyrant's fall, The Summer Sun sets in the West, And Eastern Winter lays to rest Thy leaves upon a crimson sand, Thy scattered seeds by holy hand, Know that thou suffered but in vain! As poppies hang in daisy chain Around the neck of Human, See! The planting of thy future Tree. Two blooms upon a desart land May grow sincerest creed That each themselves a flower Grand And each the other weed Yet all grow under the same Sun And grew from the same Seed.
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