Let us, by this gentle river,
Blunt the axe and break the quiver,
While, as leaves upon the spray,
Peaceful flow our cares away.
* * * * * *
Yet, alas! the hour is brief
Left for either joy or grief!
All on earth that we inherit
From the hands of the Great Spirit—
Wigwam, hill, plain, lake, and field—
To the white-man must we yield;
For, like sun-down on the waves,
We are sinking to our graves!
From this wilderness of wo
Like the caravan we go,
Leaving all our groves and streams
For the far-off land of dreams.
There are prairies waving high,
Boundless as the sheeted sky,
Where our fathers' spirits roam,
And the red-man has a home.
Let tradition tell our story.
As we fade in cloudless glory,
As we seek the land of rest
Beyond the borders of the west,
No eye but ours may look upon—
WE ARE THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN.
* * * * * *
Land-Ho!
UP, UP WITH THE SIGNAL!—The land is in sight!
We'll be happy, if never again, boys, to-night!
The cold cheerless ocean in safety we've passed,
And the warm genial earth glads our vision at last.
In the land of the stranger true hearts we shall find,
To soothe us in absence of those left behind.
Land!—land-ho!—All hearts glow with joy at the sight!
We'll be happy, if never again, boys, to-night!
THE SIGNAL IS WAVING!—Till morn we'll remain,
Then part in the hope to meet one day again!
Round the hearth-stone of home in the land of our birth,
The holiest spot on the face of the earth!
Dear country! our thoughts are as constant to thee
As the steel to the star, or the stream to the sea.
Ho!—land-ho!—We near it!—We bound at the sight!
Then be happy, if never again, boys, to-night!
THE SIGNAL IS ANSWERED!—The foam-sparkles rise
Like tears from the fountain of joy to the eyes!
May rain-drops that fall from the storm-clouds of care,
Melt away in the sun-beaming smiles of the fair!
One health, as chime gaily the nautical bells:
To woman—God bless her!—wherever she dwells!
THE PILOT'S ON BOARD!—thank heaven, all's right!
So be happy, if never again, boys, to-night!