The roamer and other poems/Faneuil Hall
FANEUIL HALL
O darling nest of rebels,
King-hated Boston town,
Whose brood is still a-rearing
To pull the tyrant down,—
Once more to Fanueil Hall, freemen, come!
There's a virtue in the name,—
And the words, they turn to flame,
That breathe from Freedom's cradle and her home.
Old abolition tocsin,
Strike out the present hour!
Throng, men, upon the ringing stones
Whence Phillips drew his power!
His mother's hand along the narrow pave
Held up his toddling feet,
And he swore to make the street
Too pure to bear the footstep of a slave.
Come! once more rock the Cradle
Whence rose our sires free men!
Till all downtrodden peoples
Shall have their rights again!
Send loud cheers echoing round the holy wall!
Hail, to heroic deeds!
Hail, every land that bleeds!
Tongue of the thoughts of freemen, Faneuil Hall!
The pictured lips of patriots
Speak out for the opprest,
And every heart turns orator
And pleads within the breast,
Upon whatever land the despots fall:
Once more, where Adams spake,
Bid the sacred rafters shake
With the roaring popular voice of Faneuil Hall!