NEW HAMPSHIRE.8
"A goodly realm!" said Captain Smith,
Scanning the coast by the Isles of Shoals,
While the wind blew fair, as in Indian myth
Blows the breeze from the Land of Souls;
Blew from the marshes of Hampton spread
Level and green that summer day,
And over the brow of Great Boar's Head,
From the pines that stretched to the west away;
And sunset died on the rippling sea,
Ere to the south, with the wind, sailed he.
But he told the story in London streets,
And again to court and Prince and King;
"A truce," men cried, "to Virginia's heats;
The North is the land of hope and spring!"
And in sixteen hundred and twenty-three,
For Dover meadows and Portsmouth river,
Bold and earnest they crossed the sea,
And the realm was theirs and ours forever!
Scanning the coast by the Isles of Shoals,
While the wind blew fair, as in Indian myth
Blows the breeze from the Land of Souls;
Blew from the marshes of Hampton spread
Level and green that summer day,
And over the brow of Great Boar's Head,
From the pines that stretched to the west away;
And sunset died on the rippling sea,
Ere to the south, with the wind, sailed he.
But he told the story in London streets,
And again to court and Prince and King;
"A truce," men cried, "to Virginia's heats;
The North is the land of hope and spring!"
And in sixteen hundred and twenty-three,
For Dover meadows and Portsmouth river,
Bold and earnest they crossed the sea,
And the realm was theirs and ours forever!
Up from the floods of Piscataqua,
Slowly, slowly they made their way
Back to the Merrimack's eager tide
Poured through its meadows rich and wide;
And westward turned for the warmer gales
And the wealth of Connecticut's intervales;
Slowly, slowly they made their way
Back to the Merrimack's eager tide
Poured through its meadows rich and wide;
And westward turned for the warmer gales
And the wealth of Connecticut's intervales;
