O Sun and Stars! bear ye Earth's thanks to God;

For Oh! what waters, slaking every thirst

Of heart, mind, spirit, in long cascades burst

From Plymouth Rock, when struck by Freedom's rod!

No wanderer in the burning sand, unshod,

Plods man with lolling tongue, dog-like, as erst;

For lo! this fountain, deepening from the first,

Floods Earth's old wells and greens Life's sand to sod.

Oh, more those waters than the Font of Youth,

For which, through field and swamp, the Spaniard ran!

For they are clear with God's eternal truth

Of fatherhood, hence brotherhood of man,

And are no dream. They quench all human drouth

And cleanse man's desert dust of sect and clan.