John Greenleaf Whittier

At the Unveiling of his Statue, 1877

AMONG their graven shapes to whom

Thy civic wreaths belong,

O city of his love, make room

For one whose gift was song.

In common ways, with common men,

He served his race and time

As well as if his clerkly pen

Had never danced to rhyme.

He toiled and sang; and year by year

Men found their homes more sweet,

And through a tenderer atmosphere

Looked down the brick-walled street.

The Greek’s wild onset Wall Street knew;

The Red King walked Broadway;

And Alnwick Castle’s roses blew

From Palisades to Bay.

Fair City by the Sea! upraise

His veil with reverent hands;

And mingle with thy own the praise

And pride of other lands.

O, stately stand thy palace walls,

Thy tall ships ride the seas;

To-day thy poet’s name recalls

A prouder thought than these.

Not less thy pulse of trade shall beat,

Not less thy tall fleets swim,

That shaded square and dusty street

Are classic ground through him.

New hands the wires of song may sweep,

New voices challenge fame;

But let no moss of years o’ercreep

The lines of Halleck’s name.