Now crack’d the woodman’s axe full loud,
And fast the sturdy forest bow’d:
Tall trees, that waved like fields of grain,
Came crackling, crashing to the plain;
Their green leaves faded in the sun,
And flashing fires across them run;
And openings spread, and fields were clear’d,
And rustic huts and cabins rear’d.
A picket fort by the river side
The battle-axe and bow defied;
And the mingled hum of the busy throng
Echo’d the hills and woods along,
And joyous shoutings, wild and free,
Rose from the infant colony.