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HIS part of the globe where we anchor and lift it again as we please; This part of the world where we hustle, then again may sit down at our ease, Is quite the best place as I see it, that old Sol in his brighten- ing up ways Ever touched with the beam of his gladness, or stroked with a handful of praise. Yes, Pilgrims with bushels of sadness, left the surf for a rocky old shore; Where forests were lined with the redskins, who blankets and skins wisely wore; As the winters were stern and their season was shown in the fetters at hand Through the ice and the snowdrifts as blankets, which spread o'er the yellow-skins' land. But the pale-face was there on a mission; was chased from a sumptuous shore Where a few were the lords of creation, but many a hundred times more Were the serfs, the hardshells that cumber the land and the charming domain, Where even a liberty-conscience was denied them, ay, time and again. And this was the kernel they tell us, that many were cracking one day And the " meaty "sweet sail came upon them, and " paddle " they would down the bay, And they did, and they crossed the wide ocean and landed at Plymouth, it seems, At a rock I have seen in my studies, and pictured again in my dreams. The hardships came on as a diet; the natives came too with a yell; The cornfields were really snowed under; there was nothing to buy nor to sell; But with nerve, with the backbone and sinew, they shoveled the snowdrifts away Till spring-time came on with its blossoms, that danced with the fragrance of May. The trees planted there on the border have spread o'er this beautiful land Till a Garden of Eden, and plenty, may come to each hustling hand; But in cliffs are the vampires hidden, in a sort of a legalized way, And they wire their bids to the bull-pit, where a shell-game the weaker may play. And still in the face of this puzzle that leaves many tracks in the sand, We have bread for the world in its trouble; extending a generous hand To the friend or the foe as it happens, those in, or beyond our broad gates-- For our flag in compassion is waving, far beyond our glad Union of States. |
