Is bow’d ’neath his sparkling crown;
For soon as his whistle is heard from afar
Commanding the winds round his throne,
And echoes in distance the roll of his car,
We encircle the joyous hearth-stone;
And eyes brighter flash, and cheeks deeper glow,—
The voice of the song gushes forth,
And ceaseless and light is each heart’s happy flow—
Oh! come to our home in the North!
Wyoming, 1841.