A poem delivered in the first congregational church in the town of Quincy, May 25, 1840 the two hundredth anniversary of the incorporation of the town |
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 | A poem delivered in the first congregational church in the town of Quincy, May 25, 1840 |  |
Yet may we hope that the enchanter's rod
Hath lightly touched the land the Pilgrim trod—
Here where no tyrant yet hath set his foot,
No Upas tree of vice yet struck its root,
Where o'er each ship that wings yon deep blue sea
Wave the proud stars and stripes of Liberty;—
Where from the meanest drudge that scours the street
Up to the ruler on his velvet seat,
One voice, one common hope inspires each breast,
Here may thy feet, O exiled Freedom, rest.
Hath lightly touched the land the Pilgrim trod—
Here where no tyrant yet hath set his foot,
No Upas tree of vice yet struck its root,
Where o'er each ship that wings yon deep blue sea
Wave the proud stars and stripes of Liberty;—
Where from the meanest drudge that scours the street
Up to the ruler on his velvet seat,
One voice, one common hope inspires each breast,
Here may thy feet, O exiled Freedom, rest.
| A poem delivered in the first congregational church in the town of Quincy, May 25, 1840 | |