Original Document
Original Document
Grace Greenwood [Sarah Jane Lippincott], "Salutatory," The Little Pilgrim, 1853.

By the Editor
From the land'of song and story,
Art and beauty, arms and glory,
Where the bloom of gorgeous flowers
Decks gray ruin everywhere,
And the golden orange bowers
Spice the soli and sunny air;
From that wondrous, seven-hilled city,
Haughty Rome, that once unfurled,
O'er all lands her eagles' pinions,
While her proud victorious legions
Overran a conquered world,
From the cities of the Nile
To the Northman's wintry regions
And the Britons' savage isle :—
From its misery and splendor,
From its mighty shining domes,
And its mightier unroofed ruins—
The Little Pilgrim comes !
From gay Naples, sad Pompeii,
And Vesuvius' awful sleep,
From fair Florence, from still Venice,
Lonely city of the deep :—
From the country rich and pleasant,
Smiling toward the Alpine snow,
Where the sullen, Lombard peasant
Scowls upon his hated foe,
And the flaunt of Austrian banners,
And the beat of Austrian drums,
Make fair towns but mighty prisons—
The Little Pilgrim comes!
From the valleys of the Tyrol,
Sheltered in from wind and cold,
Where the cheerful daisies dot
Greenest grass with white and gold ;
Where beneath the fir tree branches,
HeartVease and forget-me-not
Peep up at the avalanches—
From the mountains of the Tyrol
Towering heavenward, white and high,
'Till the awful ice-crownad summits
Seem to vanish in the sky;
Where the lonely eagle circles,
And the hardy chamois roams,
From the water-falls and glaciers—
The Little Pilgrim comes!
From the villages and vineyards
Of the fruitful land of France,
From its ancient feudal strongholds,
And its scenes of light romance ;
From the pleasures of gay Paris,
From its wonders and delights,
From its palaces and prisons,
All its grand and saddening sights ;
From the nobler " Place of Concord,"
Once the awful place of blood,
Where the maddened people gathered,
And the reeking scaffold stood,
Where the lovely Austrian princess
Going up with royal tread,
Calm and proud before the people
 Bowed to death her blanched hend ;
And from where the brutal soldiers,
In a noisy roll of drums,
Drowned the last appeal of Louis—
The Little Pilgrim comes.
From the palaces of England,
From its castles and its towers,
From its parks, and downs, and hedges,
And its fragrant garden bowers;
From cathedrals, gray and olden
And from pleasant collage homes,
Hid among laburnums golden,
Eglantine and clamboring roses,
Where, when dewy twilight closes,
Nightingales make sweet the glooms
Of the laurel and the holly,
With their love songs melancholy—
The Little Pilgrim comes !
From the land of rock and heather,
Gloomy glen and lovely lake,
Where the bugles of the hunters
Wildest mountain echoes wake ;
From the Highlands of old Scotland,
Where the anllered wild deer roams—
From the haunts of Bruce and Wallace—
The Little Pilgrim comes!
From the Emerald isle of Erin,
From the causeway built of yore,
By the mighty Irish giant—
From its caves and craggy shore,
From the Shannon, and its rapids,
At old Limerick, leaping down;
From Wicklow, and Glengarifl',
And famous Dublin town ;
From the stately halls of nobles,
And poor peasants' hovel homes,
From the lakes of sweet Killarney,
And the classic groves of Blarney—
The Little Pilgrim comes!
He has crossed the ocean surges,
He has braved the tempest's roar,
Still his pilgrim way he urges,
Till he pauses at your door,
Timid knocking, till your fire-light
Streaming on the darkness cold,
Cheers him with its gladsome welcome,
And his doubtful heart grows bold.
He has stories wild and warlike,
For the stormy winter night,
And for summer gay and cheery,
He has tales of fay and fairy,
Woodland elf and water-sprite.
He's not shy about discoursing
Of the wonders he has seen,
He will open all his budget,
If you let him once begin—
He brings tears and he brings laughter,
And some knowledge dropping after—
Let The Little Pilgrim in!

Credit: Grace Greenwood, “Salutatory,” The Little Pilgrim 1, no. 1(October, 1853), 1.
Back to Top