A FOURTH of JULY WELCOME to the MINERS
Ye are welcome, merry miners, in your blue and red shirts all;
Ye are welcome, 'mid these golden hills, to your nation's festival;
Though ye've not shaved your savage lips nor cut your barb'rous hair,
Ye are welcome, merry miners, all bearded as ye are.
What though your brows are blushing at the kisses of the sun,
And your once white and well-kept hands are stained a sober dun;
What though your backs are bent with toil, and ye have lost the air
With which ye bowed your stately heads amid the young and fair,
I fain would in my slender palm your horny fingers clasp,