A GARLAND.
Reading edition
In one aspiring carillon God’s Sabbath-bells a-rhyme, From country-side to country-side Have set the world a-chime. Like jewels dropped from heaven, Ere time or death were known, The arbutus is blooming, Where never dust is blown, For her—the Pilgrim Mother,— Steadfast and halo-spanned, Where, still, like constellations burn, Her footsteps in the sand.