They boast of clear Italian skies;
I’ve seen the glorious sun arise
From out his sparkling ocean-bed,
And, o’er my home, his splendors shed,
His beams illumined the swelling sails
That caught the scented morning gales;
Ne’er were Italian skies more fair
Than rested o’er my old Home there.
Thy rocky cliffs, Nahant, gleamed bright
As morning poured her golden light;