ON these brown rocks the waves dissolve in spray <br />As when our fathers saw them first alee. <br />If such a one could come again and see <br />This ancient haven in its latter day, <br />These haughty palaces and gardens gay, <br />These dense, soft lawns, bedecked by many a tree <br />Borne like a gem from Ind or Araby; <br />If he could see the race he bred, at play - <br />Bright like a flock of tropic birds allured <br />To pause a moment on their southward wing <br />By these warm sands and by these summer seas - <br />Would he not cry, 'Alas, have I endured <br />Exile and famine, hate and suffering, <br />To win religious liberty for these?'<br /><br />Alice Duer Miller<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/newport/
