He steamed beneath the Palisades,
The Father of all steam-fleets of the world.
Well may Manhattan glory in his fame,
And on her highest roster carve his name,
Yet, not as came he, let us come.
No: to the skies as on wings
Let us rise
And come from the east with the faint red dawn,
Haven and harbor are carpets of trembling gold,
And the silver mist to the green hills clings