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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472323" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Ballad Of The Boston Tea-Party</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472323" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Read at a meeting of the Massachusetts Historical Society.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472323" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">No! never such a draught was poured<br>Since Hebe served with nectar<br>The bright Olympians and their Lord,<br>Her over-kind protector,--<br>Since Father Noah squeezed the grape<br>And took to such behaving<br>As would have shamed our grandsire ape<br>Before the days of shaving,--<br>No! ne'er was mingled such a draught<br>In palace, hall, or arbor,<br>As freemen brewed and tyrants quaffed<br>That night in Boston Harbor!<br>The Western war-cloud's crimson stained<br>The Thames, the Clyde, the Shannon;<br>Full many a six-foot grenadier<br>The flattened grass had measured,<br>And many a mother many a year<br>Her tearful memories treasured;<br>Fast spread the tempest's darkening pall,<br>The mighty realms were troubled,<br>The storm broke loose, but first of all<br>The Boston teapot bubbled!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472323" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">An evening party,--only that,<br>No formal invitation,<br>No gold-laced coat, no stiff cravat,<br>No feast in contemplation,<br>No silk-robed dames, no fiddling band,<br>No flowers, no songs, no dancing,--<br>A tribe of red men, axe in hand,--<br>Behold the guests advancing!<br>How fast the stragglers join the throng,<br>From stall and workshop gathered!<br>The lively barber skips along<br>And leaves a chin half-lathered;<br>The smith has flung his hammer down,<br>The horseshoe still is glowing;<br>The truant tapster at the Crown<br>Has left a beer-cask flowing;<br>The cooper's boys have dropped the adze,<br>And trot behind their master;<br>Up run the tarry ship-yard lads,--<br>The crowd is hurrying faster,--<br>Out from the Millpond's purlieus gush<br>The streams of white-faced millers,<br>And down their slippery alleys rush<br>The lusty young Fort-Hillers--<br>The ropewalk lends its 'prentice crew,--<br>The tories seize the omen:<br>'Ay, boys, you'll soon have work to do<br>For England's rebel foemen,<br>'King Hancock,' Adams, and their gang,<br>That fire the mob with treason,--<br>When these we shoot and those we hang<br>The town will come to reason.'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472323" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">On--on to where the tea-ships ride!<br>And now their ranks are forming,--<br>A rush, and up the Dartmouth's side<br>The Mohawk band is swarming!<br>See the fierce natives! What a glimpse<br>Of paint and fur and feather,<br>As all at once the full-grown imps<br>Light on the deck together!<br>A scarf the pigtail's secret keeps,<br>A blanket hides the breeches,--<br>And out the cursed cargo leaps,<br>And overboard it pitches!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472323" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">O woman, at the evening board<br>So gracious, sweet, and purring,<br>So happy while the tea is poured,<br>So blest while spoons are stirring,<br>What martyr can compare with thee,<br>The mother, wife, or daughter,<br>That night, instead of best Bohea,<br>Condemned to milk and water!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472323" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Ah, little dreams the quiet dame<br>Who plies with' rock and spindle<br>The patient flax, how great a flame<br>Yon little spark shall kindle!<br>The lurid morning shall reveal<br>A fire no king can smother<br>Where British flint and Boston steel<br>Have clashed against each other!<br>Old charters shrivel in its track,<br>His Worship's bench has crumbled,</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472323" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">It climbs and clasps the union-jack,<br>Its blazoned pomp is humbled,<br>The flags go down on land and sea<br>Like corn before the reapers;<br>So burned the fire that brewed the tea<br>That Boston served her keepers!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=472323" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The waves that wrought a century's wreck<br>Have rolled o'er whig and tory;<br>The Mohawks on the Dartmouth's deck<br>Still live in song and story;<br>The waters in the rebel bay<br>Have kept the tea-leaf savor;<br>Our old North-Enders in their spray<br>Still taste a Hyson flavor;<br>And Freedom's teacup still o'erflows<br>With ever fresh libations,<br>To cheat of slumber all her foes<br>And cheer the wakening nations.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Oliver+Wendell+Holmes">Oliver Wendell Holmes</a></strong></div>