FLOW fair beside the Palisades, flow, Hudson, fair and free, | |
| By proud Manhattan’s shore of ships and green Hoboken’s tree; | |
| So fair yon haven clasped its isles, in such a sunset gleam, | |
| When Hendrik and his sea-worn tars first sounded up the stream, | |
| And climbed this rocky palisade, and resting on its brow, | 5 |
| Passed round the can and gazed awhile on shore and wave below; | |
| And Hendrik drank with hearty cheer, and loudly then cried he: | |
| “’T is a good land to fall in with, men, and a pleasant land to see!” | |
| |
| Then something—ah, ’t was prophecy!—came glowing to his brain: | |
| He seemed to see the mightier space between the oceans twain, | 10 |
| Where other streams by other strands run through their forests fair, | |
| From bold Missouri’s lordly tide to the leafy Delaware; | |
| The Sacramento, too, he saw, with its sands of secret gold, | |
| And the sea-like Mississippi on its long, long courses rolled; | |
| And great thoughts glowed within him;—“God bless the land,” cried he; | 15 |
| “’T is a good land to fall in with, men, and a pleasant land to see! | |
| |
| “I see the white sails on the main, along the land I view | |
| The forests opening to the light and the bright axe flashing through; | |
| I see the cots and village ways, the churches with their spires, | |
| Where once the Indians camped and danced the war-dance, round their fires; | 20 |
| I see a storm come up the deep,—’t is hurrying, raging, o’er | |
| The darkened fields,—but soon it parts, with a sullen, seaward roar. | |
| ’T is gone; the heaven smiles out again—God loves the land,” cried he; | |
| “’T is a good land to fall in with, men, and a pleasant land to see! | |
| |
| “I see the white sails on the main, I see, on all the strands, | 25 |
| Old Europe’s exiled households crowd, and toil’s unnumbered hands— | |
| From Hessenland and Frankenland, from Danube, Drave, and Rhine, | |
| From Netherland, my sea-born land, and the Norseman’s hills of pine, | |
| From Thames, and Shannon, and their isles—and never, sure, before, | |
| Invading host such greeting found upon a stranger shore. | 30 |
| The generous Genius of the West his welcome proffers free: | |
| ‘’T is a good land to fall in with, men, and a pleasant land to see!’ | |
| |
| “They learn to speak one language; they raise one flag adored | |
| Over one people evermore, and guard it with the sword. | |
| In festive hours, they look upon its starry folds above, | 35 |
| And hail it with a thousand songs of glory and of love. | |
| Old airs of many a fatherland still mingle with the cheer, | |
| To make the love more loving still, the glory still more dear— | |
| Drink up-sees out! join hands about! bear chorus all,” chants he; | |
| “’T is a good land to fall in with, men, and a pleasant land to see!” | 40 |
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