ODE SUNG IN THE TOWN HALL, CONCORD, JULY 4, 1857.
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tenderly the haughty dayFills his blue urn with fire;One morn is in the mighty heaven,And one in our desire. The cannon booms from town to town,Our pulses are not less,The joy-bells chime their tidings down,Which children's voices bless. For He that flung the broad blue foldO'er-mantling land and sea,One third part of the sky unrolledFor the banner of the free. The men are ripe of Saxon kindTo build an equal state,--To take the statute from the mind,And make of duty fate. United States! the ages plead,--Present and Past in under-song,--Go put your creed into your deed,Nor speak with double tongue. For sea and land don't understand,Nor skies without a frownSee rights for which the one hand fightsBy the other cloven down. Be just at home; then write your scrollOf honour o'er the sea,And bid the broad Atlantic roll,A ferry of the free. And, henceforth, there shall be no chain,Save underneath the seaThe wires shall murmur through the mainSweet songs of LIBERTY. The conscious stars accord above,The waters wild below,And under, through the cable wove,Her fiery errands go. For He that worketh high and wise,Nor pauses in his plan,Will take the sun out of the skiesEre freedom out of man.
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