previous next

     And royal plumes of golden-rod,
The grazing cattle on Centry trod.

But as they who see not, the Quakers saw
     The world about them; they only thought
With deep thanksgiving and pious awe
     On the great deliverance God had wrought.
Through lane and alley the gazing town
     Noisily followed them up and down;
Some with scoffing and brutal jeer,
     Some with pity and words of cheer.

One brave voice rose above the din.
     Upsall, gray with his length of days,
Cried from the door of his Red Lion Inn:
     “Men of Boston, give God the praise!
No more shall innocent blood call down
     The bolts of wrath on your guilty town.
The freedom of worship, dear to you,
     Is dear to all, and to all is due.

I see the vision of days to come,
     When your beautiful City of the Bay
Shall be Christian liberty's chosen home,
     And none shall his neighbor's rights gainsay.
The varying notes of worship shall blend
     And as one great prayer to God ascend,
And hands of mutual charity raise
     Walls of salvation and gates of praise. “

So passed the Quakers through Boston town,
     Whose painful ministers sighed to see
The walls of their sheep-fold falling down,
     And wolves of heresy prowling free.

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.

An XML version of this text is available for download, with the additional restriction that you offer Perseus any modifications you make. Perseus provides credit for all accepted changes, storing new additions in a versioning system.

hide Places (automatically extracted)

View a map of the most frequently mentioned places in this document.

Download Pleiades ancient places geospacial dataset for this text.

hide Display Preferences
Greek Display:
Arabic Display:
View by Default:
Browse Bar: