Little lass of Plymouth,—gentle, shy, and sweet;
Primly, trimly tripping down the queer old street;
Homespun frock and apron, clumsy buckled shoe;
Skirts that reach your ankles, just as Mother's do;
Bonnet closely clinging over braid and curl;
Modest little maiden,—Plymouth's Pilgrim girl!
Little lad of Plymouth, stanchly trudging by;
Strong your frame, and sturdy; kind and keen your eye;
Clad in belted doublet, buckles at your knee;
Every garment fashioned as a man's might be;
Shoulder-cloak and breeches, hat with bell-shaped crown;
Manly little Pilgrim,—boy of Plymouth town!
Boy and girl of Plymouth, brave and blithe, and true;
Finer task than yours was, children never knew;
Sharing toil and hardship in the strange, new land;
Hope, and help, and promise of the weary band;
Grave the life around you, scant its meed of joy;
Yours to make it brighter,—Pilgrim girl and boy!
