The Stranger's Flower

Stranger! new flowers in these vales are seen,With a dazzling eye, and a fadeless green,They scent the breath of the dewy morn,They feed no worm, and they hide no thorn,But revel and glow in our balmy air;They are flowers that freedom hath planted there.

This bud of welcome to thee we give;Bid its glowing blush in thy bosom live;It shall charm thee from all a stranger's pain,Reserve, suspicion, and dark disdain;A race in its freshness and bloom are we,Bring no cares from a worn out world with thee.

'Tis a little time since the lance and spear,And the clamor of war and death were here;Our siesta the shout of the murderer broke,And we struggled to rend a tyrant's yoke,Till our midnight slumbers were pale with fears,And the fairest cheeks bore a mourner's tears.

But now on the couch of its mother's breast,The infant sleeps long in its dream of rest,And the lover beneath the evening star,Woos the young maid with his light guitar;These are the blessings that wait the free,And stranger! this flower is our gift to thee.