The Mayflower

Happy, thrice happy, the Puritan maid
Leaving the fort and the grim palisade;
Leaving the bay where the good ship was fast
To find, her head bending low to the blast,
Just a pink and white hood
In the wind-driven wood.
Then smiling and blushing
With eagerness flushing,
So swiftly she hurried
Young Robin was flurried
And as he his pinions to Boreas tossed,
The dear little pink-hooded stranger was lost.

Sadder but wiser our Puritan maid
Quickly her footsteps, impetuous, staid
Scarce had she lost it, another was seen
Looking its best in a garment of green,
With a pink and white hood;
For a moment she stood
With heart lighter beating,
At such a sweet meeting.
As kneeling she found it
Where Nature had gowned it
What visions of promise marched up the bleak slope,
To crown that May blossom, the blossom of hope.