O Land of warbling Nightingales across Th'Atlantic pond where golden Daffodils Dance for the sheepish Clouds that shade the hills And trees are emerald green with clinging moss, My Heart is griev'd for thy most grievous Loss Of Liberty as Tyranny fulfills His loathsomest Designs and swiftly kills The Speech that ought be free, however gross. Despair thou not.Β Β The Lord of Love and Might, Though he doth try thy Patience, He shall yet Shatter the Teeth of Tyranny and set The Captives free, the broken Bones aright. Father will come (have faith, for God is just) And resurrect the Tongue that tastes the dust.