Where the red Mohegan's wigwam stood beneath the friendly shade,
Where, with tomahawk and arrow, through the wilderness he stayed,
Where he skimmed the sparkling river, where his dusky children grew,
'Mid the music of the robin, and the incense of the dew,
Where he smoked the fragrant calumant and lit the council fires,
Standeth now the crowded city, with its many roofs and spires.