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

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.