Where no rich verdure greets the passing eye,
Where no cool, murmuring stream salutes the ear,
The wild Bedouin wanders, bold and free,
Boasting his home, the happiest and the best,
And claiming for himself Heaven’s richest gift,
The gift of Freedom. The fierce Indian tribes,
Panting for war, gaining their daily food
By the precarious chase, their hardy frames
Inured to hunger; yet, with strongest ties
Cling to their native land; it is their Home.