What Cries Are These?

What cries are these, that from this baby come?
A practicing of future singer’s might
When all the world’s stage is his by right?
Or does he plan to holler down the sun,
Rouse out the stars, and wear them for his crown?
Or will his grandeus orders throb the air
That men take action to, to do and dare?
Each day his cries throw up such rising sum
That wicked tyrants shudder as they hear,
And blink, and shake, and spin about in fear.
For in that voice of freedom there’s a man,
A human strength that won’t be stopped half-way,
A fount of justice of that bursting day
When men will strive as freeborn men began!

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