I HEARD the train's shrill whistle call, <br />I saw an earnest look beseech, <br />And rather by that look than speech <br />My neighbor told me all. <br />And, as I thought of Liberty <br />Marched handcuffed down that sworded street, <br />The solid earth beneath my feet <br />Reeled fluid as the sea. <br />I felt a sense of bitter loss, — <br />Shame, tearless grief, and stifling wrath, <br />And loathing fear, as if my path <br />A serpent stretched across. <br />All love of home, all pride of place, <br />All generous confidence and trust, <br />Sank smothering in that deep disgust <br />And anguish of disgrace. <br />Down on my native hills of June, <br />And home's green quiet, hiding all, <br />Fell sudden darkness like the fall <br />Of midnight upon noon! <br />And Law, an unloosed maniac, strong, <br />Blood-drunken, through the blackness trod, <br />Hoarse-shouting in the ear of God <br />The blasphemy of wrong. <br />'O Mother, from thy memories proud, <br />Thy old renown, dear Commonwealth, <br />Lend this dead air a breeze of health, <br />And smite with stars this cloud. <br />'Mother of Freedom, wise and brave, <br />Rise awful in thy strength,' I said; <br />Ah me! I spake but to the dead; <br />I stood upon her grave!<br /><br />John Greenleaf Whittier<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rendition/
