Classic Poem

Over the mountain wave
See where they come;
Storm-cloud and wintry wind
Welcome them home:
Yet where the sounding gale
Howls to the sea,
There their song—peals along,
Deep-toned and free:
Pilgrims and wanderers,
Hither we come;—
Where the free dare to be,—
This is our home!

England hath sunny dales,
Dearly they bloom;—
Scotia hath heather-hills,
Sweet their perfume:
Yet through the wilderness
Cheerful we stray,
Native land—native land,
Home far away!
Pilgrims and wanderers,
Hither we come;—
Where the free dare to be,
This is our home!

Dim grew the forest path,—
Onward they trod;
Firm beat their noble hearts,
Trusting in God!
Gray men and blooming maids,
High rose their song,
Hear it sweep—clear and deep,
Ever along;—
Pilgrims and wanderers,
Hither we come;—
Where the free dare to be,
This is our home!

Not theirs the glory-wreath
Torn by the blast;—
Heavenward their holy steps,
Heavenward they past,
Green be their mossy graves!
Ours be their fame,
While their song—peals along,
Ever the same:
Pilgrims and wanderers,
Hither we come;—
Where the free dare to be,
This is our home!