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Speak—for the poor man's cause—
For Labor's just reward—
For violated laws
Of nature and of God!
Speak—let the Debtor hear
Within his living grave!
Speak—thunder in Oppression's ear,
Deliverance to the slave!
Ay—speak—while there is time,
For all a freeman's claim,
Ere thought becomes a crime,
And Freedom but a name!
While yet the Tongue and Pen
And Press are unforbid,
And we dare to feel and act as men—
Speak—as our fathers did!
The land we love ere long
Shall kindle at thy call—
Falsehood and chartered Wrong,
And legal Robbery, fall:
The proud shall not combine—
The secret council cease—
And underneath the sheltering vine
Shall Labor dwell in peace!
Old Massachusetts yet
Retains her earliest fires—
Still on her hills are set
The altars of her sires:
