Not with the roll of stirring drums, and the trumpet that sings of fame;
Not as the flying come, in silence and in fear,—
They shook the depths of the desert's gloom with their hymns of lofty cheer.
Amidst the storm they sang, and the stars heard, and the sea!
And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang to the anthem of the free!
The ocean eagle soared from his nest by the white waves' foam,
And the rocking pines of the forest roared,—this was their welcome home!
There were men with hoary hair amidst that pilgrim band,—
Why had they come to wither there, away from their childhood's land?
There was woman's fearless eye, lit by her deep love's truth;