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Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates
shall stand
A mighty woman with a touch,
whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning,
and her name
Mother of exiles

1883
THE NEW COLOSSUS by Emma Lazarus, written to raise
funds to complete the Statue of Liberty

I marched away to the ocean's shore-
I trusted myself to the waves,
Not yet was my spirit broken,
Nor yet lay I in hateful chains,
Strength remained to save myself.
America welcomes me!
I shall stay in the faraway land.

1855
Poem by Jacob Gross, a German immigrant

I will write you about Chicago next time.
This young city is one of the most marvelous phenomena
in America, or indeed of the world

1854
Carl Schurz, a recent immigrant, to his wife

THE LAST SUNDAY IN THE HOMELAND

The emigrants kneel in the old parish Church
For the last time, it may be forever:
They scarcely had known that it would be so hard.
The ties of a lifetime to sever.

For the last time they look on the vine-clad walls.
For the last time they hear the bells ringing.
Twas there they were married, and now to that church
How fondly their sad hearts are clinging!

They listen once more to the good Pastor's voice,
They will try to remember his teaching:
And hope they may never forget what he says,
As they look in his face while's he preaching.

That voice they have heard by the bed of the sick-
That face they have seen by the dying-
At the altar, the font, and the newly dug grave
The means of salvation supplying.

For the last time they stand where their forefathers names
They read on the headstones and crosses:
There are newly cut names: and others so old.
They are covered by lichens and mosses.

Then a last look they take at a green little mound,
Where one of their children is sleeping.
And gather a daisy that grows at the head-
Then turn away silently weeping.

The neighbors are waiting to bid them "God Speed"
To think of them each one professing-
At the gate of the churchyard the old Pastor stands
To give them his fatherly blessing.

He placed in their hands the best of all gifts,
A Bible and Prayer book, at parting:
They could not say much, but he knew what they felt-
To their eyes the warm tear-drops were starting.

"Keep these in your heart" as he gave them, he said,
"And trust to the cross of Christ only:
Then the Lord will be with you wherever you go,
And then you need never feel lonely."

Author unknown

The Ice Boat Crew

You sturdy landsmen, one and all
Pray listen unto me,
Likewise you hardy sailors bold
That plow the stormy sea.
I want your kind attention
While I hereby do relate
The hardships of the ice boat crew
Upon the frozen Strait.
The month was Winter's coldest one,
As you presently shall hear,
The twenty-seventh of January,
and eighty-five the year.
Our ice boats three in number
With fifteen of a crew,
And seven more as passengers
Which numbered twenty-two.

Our friends conveyed us to the shore,
And there we bid adieu.
The dismal fate which lay in wait
was hidden from our view.
The wind north-east, the frost increased,
A raging storm prevailed,
Through blinding snow we were forced to go
And breast the blinding gale.

The afternoon was soon advanced,
we took no note of time,
With weary step and eager glance,
We looked for Cape Tormentine,
The blocks of ice were magnified
by piles of drifted snow,
And oft deceived our anxious eyes
For Uncle Tom's abode.

To reach the capes with light of day,
It was our hope and prayer
Our hopes were turned to bitter doubts,
Our doubts to grim despair.
Alas! the naked fact is out,
What now must be our fate?
For lost we are, without a doubt
Upon the frozen strait.

The wind was now at north-east
The frost below eighteen,
And bravely now we tried to breast
The driving blast so keen.
Imagine our condition,
And with me you'll agree,
Our thoughts will not be pleasant ones,
Upon the frozen sea.

We held a consultation,
then agreed were all our boys,
Since now we had no other course
To camp upon the ice.
And then a rude construction
With our boats we did prepare,
To serve us for a shelter
Through this night so bleak and dreare.

Our sufferings through all that bitter nite
No tongue can e'ver explain.
We hoped to see the morning light
And friends at home again.
We battled with the raging frost
and with the blinding smoke,
was a night of horror
Till the dawn of morning broke.

Our waterkegs were frozen hard
Since early in the day
And thirst and hunger side by side
Were come with us to stay.
We had not tasted food nor drink
Since six o'clock that morn,
And travelled on our aimless way
Beneath a blinding storm.

One of our crew showed symptoms
Of his reason giving away
Brought on by mental anguish
And the hardships of the day,
Exhausted now for want of food,
Our strength began to fail,
Our clothes were wet and frozen hard,
Just like a coat of mail.

The welcome dawn appeared at last,
And keen the wind did blow,
The frost intense kept sweeping past,
At twenty two below.
The sun came out and then went back,
As if it came to see,
Or mock our sad, forlorn state
In doleful misery.

No sight of land could yet be seen,
The storm did not abate
We moved our camp on safer ice
And patiently did await.
Until the hours of evening came,
It might be three or four,
The welcome land appeared at last,
Which proved the Crapaud shore.
Heading 3

Fond hope again, fresh courage came,
Within our sinking breast.
Our boys, though weak for want of food,
Desired to do their best.
Our baggage then we tumbled in,
Without a sigh or mourn,
And something like a sigh was heard,
Come home! it cries, Come home.

Our battle now for life began,
Despair was cast aside,
And bravely struggled every man,
His feelings for to hide.
No food or drink for fourty hours,
Exposed in our sad state
To one of Winter's fiercest storms,
The oldest can relate.

No wonder now our tottering steps
Were growing weak and slow,
We left our boats and grappled with
Our last and deadly foe.
This proved to be a strip of marsh
Tween us and solid land,
Where piles of snow were drifted high
From off the frozen Strand.

This was the saddest time of all
The trials that we went through,
For some so much exhausted were
Could not get through the snow.
But some got to the neighbouring woods
Were sheltered from the gale,
The rest got to the friendly roof
Before Mr. A. McPhail.

The neighbours soon assembled,
A thorough search was made
And those poor fellows left behind
To shelter were quickly conveyed,
A sorrowful sight we did present
To those good people's view
What hardship, cold, and hunger left
Of the hardy ice-boat crew.

The mother's loving kindness
Which in this home prevailed,
Bestowed on these poor sufferers,
By Mrs. A. McPhail.
A greatful heart shall treasured be
And like a star resplendant shine
Where time can n'er efface
To light her resting place.

Beneath the hospitable roof
The frozen ones remained
Till willing hands conveyed them
To their homes and friends again.
But long will faithful memory
Assist us to relate
The hardships of the ice-boat crew
Upon the frozen strait.
The Ice Boat Crew
Public Archives and Records, Accession #2301/273

Dear Ancestor

Your tombstone stands among the rest;
Neglected and alone.
The name and date are chiseled out
On polished, marbled stone.
It reaches out to all who care
It is too late to mourn.
You did not know that I exist
You died and I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you
In flesh, in blood, in bone.
Our blood contracts and beats a pulse
Entirely not our own.
Dear Ancestor, the place you filled
One hundred years ago
Spreads out among the ones you left
Who would have loved you so.
I wonder if you lived and loved,
I wonder if you knew
That someday I would find this spot,
And come to visit you.

--Author Unknown

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P.O. Box 331
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Page Updated Sat Feb 5, 2000 11:03am EST