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Poem	OH mother of a mighty race Yet lovely in thy youthful grace! The elder dames thy haughty peers Admire and hate thy blooming years. With words of shame 5 And taunts of scorn they join thy name. For on thy cheeks the glow is spread That tints thy morning hills with red; Thy step¡ªthe wild deer's rustling feet Within thy woods are not more fleet; 10 Thy hopeful eye Is bright as thine own sunny sky. Ay let them rail¡ªthose haughty ones While safe thou dwellest with thy sons. They do not know how loved thou art 15 How many a fond and fearless heart Would rise to throw Its life between thee and the foe. They know not in their hate and pride What virtues with thy children bide; 20 How true how good thy graceful maids Make bright like flowers the valley-shades; What generous men Spring like thine oaks by hill and glen. What cordial welcomes greet the guest 25 By thy lone rivers of the West; How faith is kept and truth revered And man is loved and God is feared In woodland homes And where the ocean-border foams. 30 There 's freedom at thy gates and rest For Earth's down-trodden and opprest A shelter for the hunted head For the starved laborer toil and bread. Power at thy bounds 35 Stops and calls back his baffled hounds. Oh fair young mother! on thy brow Shall sit a nobler grace than now. Deep in the brightness of the skies The thronging years in glory rise 40 And as they fleet Drop strength and riches at thy feet. Thine eye with every coming hour Shall brighten and thy form shall tower; And when thy sisters elder born 45 Would brand thy name with words of scorn Before thine eye Upon their lips the taunt shall die.
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