Happy Thanksgiving from Bonneville Sailing!
Landing of the Pilgrims
The breaking waves dashed high,

On a stern and rock-bound coast,

And the woods against a stormy sky

Their giant branches tossed;
On a stern and rock-bound coast,

And the woods against a stormy sky

Their giant branches tossed;
And the heavy night hung dark

The hills and waters o'er,

When a band of exiles moored their bark

On the wild New England shore.
Amidst the storm they sang,

And the stars heard, as well as the sea;

And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang

To the anthem of the free!
The ocean eagle soared
From his nest by the white wave's foam;

And the rocking pines of the forest roared--

This was their welcome home!
There was woman's fearless eye,
Lit by her deep love's truth;

There was manhood's brow serenely high,

And the fiery heart of youth.
What sought they thus afar?

Bright jewels of the mine?
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?--
They sought a faith's pure shrine!
Ay, call it holy ground,

The soil where first they trod.

They have left unstained what there they found--
Freedom to worship God.
Felicia Dorothea Hemans l793-1835 (edited for brevity)
The hills and waters o'er,

When a band of exiles moored their bark

On the wild New England shore.
Amidst the storm they sang,

And the stars heard, as well as the sea;

And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang

To the anthem of the free!
The ocean eagle soared
From his nest by the white wave's foam;

And the rocking pines of the forest roared--

This was their welcome home!
There was woman's fearless eye,
Lit by her deep love's truth;

There was manhood's brow serenely high,

And the fiery heart of youth.
What sought they thus afar?

Bright jewels of the mine?
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?--
They sought a faith's pure shrine!
Ay, call it holy ground,

The soil where first they trod.

They have left unstained what there they found--
Freedom to worship God.
Felicia Dorothea Hemans l793-1835 (edited for brevity)