While researching for my Bradford biography, I just came across a short poem about the Pilgrims. Seeing that it was just a few days before Thanksgiving, and I could not readily find it via Google, I figured I would publish it here. It was written by Mary Bradford Wardwell (b. 1863). She was originally from Rhode Island, but lived most of her life in New York with her husband and three children. She was a descendant of Governor William Bradford, and it is said that he owned some of his surviving household articles.
The Mayflower Pilgrims
Over unknown wastes of water,
Facing perils of the sea,
Bravely sailed a little vessel
Bearing hopes which were to be
The fulfillment of men’s longing
for a nation of the free
Great the dangers that surrounded
This heroic Pilgrim band,
Great the hardships that they suffered
In a desolate, bleak land.
But their cause was high and holy,
And they counted not their loss,
To achieve their noble mission
They most gladly bore their cross.
Here they built a firm foundation
On God’s law of truth and right,
Here has risen a powerful nation,
Glorious in freedom’s might.
Hither come from all the countries,
Multitudes that wish to share
In our many and rich blessings
And our burdens help to bear.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
(Charles W. Burpee, Burpee’s: The Story of Connecticut (New York: The American Historical Company, Inc., 1939) vol. 4, p. 1219).
