THE STRANGER'S FLOWER.
It is the custom of the Ladies of Chili to present a Flower to strangers, on receiving them into their houses.
Stranger! new flowers in our vales are seen,
With a dazzling eye, and a fadeless green,—
They scent the breath of the dewy morn,
They feed no worm, and they hide no thorn,
But revel and glow in our balmy air,
They are flowers which Freedom hath planted there.
This bud of welcome to thee we give,—
Bid its unborn sweets in thy bosom live;
It shall charm thee from all a stranger's pain,
Reserve, suspicion, and dark disdain,
A race in its freshness and bloom are we,
Bring no cares from a worn-out world with thee.
'T is a little time since the lance and spear,
And clamour of war and death were here;
Our sesta*[1] the shout of the murderer broke,
And we struggled to rend a tyrant's yoke,
Till our midnight slumbers were pale with fears,
And the fairest cheeks bore a widow's tears.
But now, on the couch of its mother's breast,
The infant sleeps long in its dream of rest,
And the lover beneath the evening star
Woos the young maid with his blithe guitar—
These—these are the blessings of Liberty,
And Stranger, this flower is her gift to thee.
- ↑ * The after-dinner sleep.