Trace time back far enough, all men are blunt
who claim this soil be only his right to defend.
This continent was forest for the hunt
before first atom let that first man in.
And so the song goes: Indians enraged
(though dog and bear and star before his time)
when white man, late, then put him in a cage
to teach him a more civilizing clime.
“Oh, immigrant, you are not welcome here!
This is our land. We are the favored ‘fore
your footprints press our soil with languished tear.
We were here first, and so we close the door!”
But, yet, America’s a swirling seed;
hearts tilled again, she’s open to man’s need.