My country was the destination near—
of immigrant, traveller, visitors,
and men and women sojourned on our shore—
made haste from old dominions rung with tears—
They left in boats as Syrian refugees,
the dead of night had hid them, and they rowed,
arriving with their children in the flow
of time, through oceans, poverty's disease.
To freedom!—people called with libertine.
Their hearts were softened to a native land
where people stood together hand in hand.
Their eyes were widened, they began to sing—
We are the patriot wanderers home,
in all of us command our hearts aglow!