Ere Cabot's prow was westward turned,
Before old Hudson came,
Upon this island acre burned
The Red Man's council flame.

Then here the settler's cattle grazed
Along the bowered track;
And here his bell-mouthed musket blazed
And drove the savage back.

But yonder rose the gallows-tree
Where, calm and fearless-eyed,
Our first sad pledge to Liberty,
Great-hearted Leisler died.

And hither flocked from shops and farms,
When Freedom's summons flew,
Those large-boned, sun-browned men-at-arms
That wore the buff and blue.

Oh, build your walls, for build you will,
On earth less dearly known;
Leave this one spot unburdened still
With tyrant steel and stone! —

A scroll whereon brave youth shall trace
Brave deeds of days gone by,
A shrine, a little, hallowed space
Unroofed beneath the sky.