Poems (Terry, 1861)/The last revolution

by Rose Terry Cooke

THE LAST REVOLUTION.

Hurrah! the mob is up again!
 I hear its distant rush and roar,
 Like mad 'seas surging on the shore;
But this sea shall not surge in vain.
Shout, bondsmen all, for freedom's reign—
    Hurrah!

A thousand, thousand hurrying feet,
 Resistless, heedless, trampling by:
 From the black East a shrieking cry;
The sound flies fast, the winds are fleet;
Hurrah! this liberty is sweet.
    Hurrah!

Hark! is't the roar of cannonades?
 A sullen thunder from afar—
 The grim, exulting psalm of war,
When deep in blood the victor wades:
No! 'tis the crashing barricades.
    Hurrah!

A shattered throne lies on the plain;
 Dead, at its foot, the hoary king.
 Shout for the gay republic—Spring!
Hurrah! it hath not come in vain,
This revolution of the rain.
    Hurrah!