On these brown rocks the waves dissolve in spray
As when our fathers saw them first alee.
If such a one could come again and see
This ancient haven in its latter day,
These haughty palaces and gardens gay,
These dense, soft lawns, bedecked by many a tree
Borne like a gem from Ind or Araby;
If he could see the race he bred, at play--
Bright like a flock of tropic birds allured
To pause a moment on the southward wing
By these warm sands and by these summer seas--
Would he not cry, “Alas, have I endured
Exile and famine, hate and suffering,
To win religious liberty for these?”
_Smart Set_ _Alice Duer Miller_