She the one that crossed the waters,
Idol of our Pilgrim shores.
THE ANGELUS OF PLYMOUTH WOODS.
I know a place ’mid desert wilds,
From city cares apart,
Where sheening ponds, like sleeping swans,
Dream on the world’s warm heart;
Its vesper-bells are calling, and ever calling me,
To worshipful devotion, from every leafy tree.
And none hath caught the music