SOULS of the patriot dead On Bunker's height who bled! The pile, that stands On your long-buried bones -- Those monumental stones -- Should not suppress the groans This day demands. For Freedom there ye stood; There gave the earth your blood; There found your graves; That men of every clime, Faith, color, tongue, and time, Might, through your death sublime, Never be slaves. Over your bed, so low, Heard ye not, long ago, A voice of power Proclaim to earth and sea, That where ye sleep should be A home for Liberty Till Time's last hour? Hear ye the chains of slaves, Now clanking round your graves? Hear ye the sound Of that same voice that calls From out our Senate halls, "Hunt down those fleeing thralls, With horse and hound!" That voice your sons hath swayed! 'T is heard, and is obeyed! This gloomy day Tells you of ermine stained, Of Justice's name profaned, Of a poor bondman chained And borne away! Over Virginia's Springs, Her eagles spread their wings, Her Blue Ridge towers -- That voice -- once heard with awe -- Now asks, "Who ever saw, Up there, a higher law Than this of ours?" Must we obey that voice? When God or man's the choice, Must we postpone Him, who from Sinai spoke? Must we wear slavery's yoke? Bear of her lash the stroke, And prop her throne? Lashed with her hounds, must we Run down the poor who flee From Slavery's hell? Great God! when we do this Exclude us from thy bliss; At us let angels hiss From heaven that fell! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CELEBRATION by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE WAY TO ARCADY by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER IMMORTALITY [OR, VERSE] by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR DEATH'S VALLEY by WALT WHITMAN A RECEIPT TO CURE THE VAPOURS by MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU LET NO CHARITABLE HOPE by ELINOR WYLIE |