Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, HOW WE BECAME A NATION [APRIL 15, 1774], by HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD



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HOW WE BECAME A NATION [APRIL 15, 1774], by             Poet's Biography
First Line: When george the king would punish folk
Last Line: Made us a nation hard and fast.
Subject(s): Boston Tea Party; U.s. - Colonial Period


WHEN George the King would punish folk
Who dared resist his angry will --
Resist him with their hearts of oak
That neither King nor Council broke --
He told Lord North to mend his quill,
And sent his Parliament a Bill.

The Boston Port Bill was the thing
He flourished in his royal hand;
A subtle lash with scorpion sting,
Across the seas he made it swing,
And with its cruel thong he planned
To quell the disobedient land.

His minions heard it sing, and bare
The port of Boston felt his wrath;
They let no ship cast anchor there,
They summoned Hunger and Despair, --
And curses in an aftermath
Followed their desolating path.

No coal might enter there, nor wood,
Nor Holland flax, nor silk from France;
No drugs for dying pangs, no food
For any mother's little brood.
"Now," said the King, "we have our chance,
We'll lead the haughty knaves a dance."

No other flags lit up the bay,
Like full-blown blossoms in the air,
Than where the British war-ships lay;
The wharves were idle; all the day
The idle men, grown gaunt and spare,
Saw trouble, pall-like, everywhere.

Then in across the meadow land,
From lonely farm and hunter's tent,
From fertile field and fallow strand,
Pouring it out with lavish hand,
The neighboring burghs their bounty sent,
And laughed at King and Parliament.

To bring them succor, Marblehead
Joyous her deep-sea fishing sought.
Her trees, with ringing stroke and tread,
Old many-rivered Newbury sped,
And Groton in her granaries wrought,
And generous flocks old Windham brought.

Rice from the Carolinas came,
Iron from Pennsylvania's forge,
And, with a spirit all aflame,
Tobacco-leaf and corn and game
The Midlands sent; and in his gorge
The Colonies defied King George!

And Hartford hung, in black array,
Her town-house, and at half-mast there
The flags flowed, and the bells all day
Tolled heavily; and far away
In great Virginia's solemn air
The House of Burgesses held prayer.

Down long glades of the forest floor
The same thrill ran through every vein,
And down the long Atlantic's shore;
Its heat the tyrant's fetters tore
And welded them through stress and strain
Of long years to a mightier chain.

That mighty chain with links of steel
Bound all the Old Thirteen at last,
Through one electric pulse to feel
The common woe, the common weal.
And that great day the Port Bill passed
Made us a nation hard and fast.





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