Mount and are lost in liberty,

While those who caged you creep on earth

Blind prisoners from the hour that gave them birth.

III

Sing! The great City surges round.

Blinded with light, thou canst not know.

Dream! 'Tis the fir-woods' windy sound

Rolling a psalm of praise below.

Sing, o'er the bitter dust and shame,

And touch us with thine own transcendent flame.

IV

Sing, o'er the City dust and slime;

Sing, o'er the squalor and the gold,

The greed that darkens earth with crime,

The spirits that are bought and sold.

O, shower the healing notes like rain,

And lift us to the height of grief again.

V

Sing! The same music swells your breast,

And the wild notes are still as sweet

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