NEWPORT

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?”