Page:Maryland, my Maryland, and other poems - Randall - 1908.pdf/27

 Bigots! ye quell not the valiant mind
 * With the clank of an iron chain;

The Spirit of Freedom sings in the wind
 * O’er Merryman, Thomas, and Kane!

And we—though we smite not—are not thralls,
 * We are piling a gory debt;

While down by McHenry’s dungeon walls
 * There’s Life in the Old Land yet!

Our women have hung their harps away,
 * And they scowl on your brutal bands,

While the nimble poniard dares the day
 * In their dear, defiant hands!

They will strip their tresses to string our bows
 * Ere the Northern sun is set—

There’s faith in their unrelenting woes,
 * There’s Life in the Old Land yet!

There’s life, thought it throbbeth in silent veins,
 * ’Tis vocal without noise—

It gushed o’er Manassas’ solemn plains
 * From the blood of the Maryland boys!

That blood shall cry aloud, and rise
 * With an everlasting threat—

By the death of the brave, by the God in the skies,
 * There’s Life in the Old Land yet! [ 23 ]