Poem in Praise of the Continental Congress: a Fourth of July hymn

Thank you, Mr. Jefferson,

For bearding the British brass.

And thank  you, Mr. Adams,

Of Braintree (Quincy) Mass.

Carroll and Clark and Clymer,

Harrison, Hancock, Hart,

Printer Franklin and Planter Hall,

I thank you one and I thank you all

For rising up at your country's call

And giving the Fourth a start.

Thanks with gratitude more than cursory

For handing July an anniversary.

What is so rare in these sovereign states

As festive weather on festive dates?

Sneezes hamper the Yuletide kiss.

Autumn glooms on the Armistice.

Easter's certain to be contrary.

Washington picked out February.

But east and west and south and north

There's strawberry shortcake on the Fourth.

So hip and hip and a loud hooray

For glorious Independence Day,

Day auspicious for every comer

Because it falls on the Fourth of summer,

When winds are soft and air's a prism

And climate's conducive to patriotism.

Fathers, I'm grateful when I remember

You might have fixed on the Fourth of November.

You might have chosen August,

When lawns begin to parch,

Defended Man in the middle of Jan.

Or the horrible first of March.

But you thought of parades and picnics,

Of a blue American sky,

Of driving fast in a brand-new car,

Of rowing boats and of breaking par,

And you set it down on your calendar

That you'd choose the Fourth of July.

So thank you, Button Gwinnett,

For a celebration blithe.

And thank you, Roger Sherman,

And thank you, Mr. Wythe.

Hopkinson, Hooper, Heyward,

Livingston, Lewis, Lee,

Merchant Morris, of Morrisania,

Morton, the jurist from Pennsylvania,

I'm happy you surged with that freedomania.

Thanks for the Land of the Free,

For giving us liberty's deathless chime

And a holiday in the summertime.

-   Phyllis McGinley