"From early morn to fading eve she stands, Labor's best offering on the shrine of worth, And Labor's jewels glitter on her hands, To make a plenty out of partial dearth, To animate the heaviness of earth, To stand and serve serenely through the pain, To nurse a vigorous race and ne'er complain. "New-England women are New-England's pride, 'Tis fitting they should be so, they are free,-- Intelligence doth all their acts decide, Such deeds more charming than old ancestry. I could not dwell beside them, and not be Enamored of them greatly; they are meant To charm the Poet, by their pure intent. "A natural honest bearing of their lot, Cheerful at work, and happy when 'tis done; They shine like stars within the humblest cot, And speak for freedom centred all in one. From every river's side I hear the son Of some New-England woman answer me, 'Joy to our Mothers, who did make us free.' "And when those wanderers turn to home again, See the familiar village, and the street Where they once frolicked, they are less than men If in their eyes the tear-drops do not meet, To feel how soon their mothers they shall greet: Sons of New England have no dearer day, Than once again within those arms to lay. "These are her men and women; this the sight That greets me daily when I pass their homes; It is enough to love, it throws some light Over the gloomiest hours; the fancy roams No more to Italy or Greece; the loams Whereon we tread are sacred by the lives Of those who till them, and our comfort thrives. "Here might one pass his days, content to be The witness of those spectacles alway; Bring if you may your treasure from the sea, My pride is in my Townsmen, where the day Rises so fairly on a race who lay Their hopes on Heaven after their toil is o'er, Upon this rude and bold New-England shore. "Vainly ye pine woods rising on the height Should lift your verdant boughs and cones aloft; Vainly ye winds should surge around in might, Or murmur o'er the meadow stanzas soft; To me should nothing yield or lake or crost, Had not the figures of the pleasant scene Like trees and fields an innocent demean. "I feel when I am here some pride elate, Proud of your presence who do duty here, For I am some partaker of your fate, Your manly anthem vibrates in my ear; Your hearts are heaving unconsumed by fear; Your modest deeds are constantly supplied; Your simpler truths by which you must abide. "Therefore I love a cold and flinty realm, I love the sky that hangs New England o'er, And if I were embarked, and at the helm I ran my vessel on New England's shore, And dashed upon her crags, would live no more, Rather than go seek those lands of graves Where men who tread the fields are cowering slaves." W. ELLERY CHANNING.