The Gipsy's Prayer
Our altar is the dewy sod—
Our temple yon blue throne of God:
No priestly rite our souls to bind—
We bow before the Almighty Mind.
Oh, Thou whose realm is wide as air—
Thou wilt not spurn the Gipsies' prayer:
Though banned and barred by all beside,
Be Thou the Outcast's guard and guide.
Poor fragments of a Nation wrecked—