Page:Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier (1895).djvu/347

Rh What! know ye not the gains of Crime
 * Are dust and dross;

Its ventures on the waves of time
 * Foredoomed to loss!

And still the Pilgrim State remains
 * What she hath been;

Her inland hills, her seaward plains,
 * Still nurture men!

Nor wholly lost the fallen mart;
 * Her olden blood

Through many a free and generous heart
 * Still pours its flood.

That brave old blood, quick-flowing yet,
 * Shall know no check,

Till a free people’s foot is set
 * On Slavery’s neck.

Even now, the peal of bell and gun,
 * And hills aflame,

Tell of the first great triumph won
 * In Freedom’s name.

The long night dies: the welcome gray
 * Of dawn we see;

Speed up the heavens thy perfect day,
 * God of the free!

the train’s shrill whistle call,
 * I saw an earnest look beseech,
 * And rather by that look than speech

My neighbor told me all.