Greece was an hungered, and ye gave her bread,
    Unclad and shuddering from the inclement blast,
And ye, in love, a sheltering mantle spread;
    For this a voice of gratitude hath past
O'er the broad ocean-wave, and thousands bear
Your name upon their lips, in the hushed hour of prayer.

There is a cry for knowledge, from that clime
    Which held her lamp to earth's benighted eye,
In the dim ages of remembered time:
    Rise! shed the beams of immortality
On the mind's prison-house: so shall your fame
Endure, when this world's pomp hath fed Destruction's flame.

I saw your infants for the needle's care
    Renounce their promised holiday-delight:
Saw even your servants with a joyous air
    Give for the "classic land" their hard earned mite;
Mothers! ye gazed with rapture-kindled brow,
Ye prompted that blest work, why do ye linger now?

Sisters! on whom the manna-shower is strewed,
    Who at eternal fountains drink your fill,
Should a redundance of your angel food
    Turn from the starving mind Compassion's thrill?
Hear ye the gasping of the famished soul?
Haste! reach the bread of Heaven; say to the sick—be whole.