Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/170

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Rich was each lowly cabin In the strong trust of prayer, A heaven-born might to brave the lot Of poverty and care; So now a glorious nation Doth rise in solemn state, To bless that lonely May-Flower, With all her Pilgrim-freight.

New-England’s lofty mountains Bow low their leafy crest, In homage to the swelling bay That gave the May-Flower rest, In homage to the rugged rock That stretch'd a wintry hand, And welcomed to its snow-clad breast The fathers of our land.

But thou, O Rock of Plymouth, Like him of old, who lent To stranger and wayfaring men The shelter of his tent, Saw not, beneath the homely garb, With clear, prophetic eyes, Nor through the strangers' vestment scann'd   The angel in disguise.