Where shall we bury our shame?

  Where, in what desolate place,

Hide the last wreck of a name

  Broken and stained by disgrace?

Death may dissever the chain,

  Oppression will cease when we're gone;

But the dishonor, the stain,

  Die as we may, will live on.

Was it for this we sent out

  Liberty's cry from our shore?

Was it for this that her shout

  Thrilled to the world's very core?

Thus to live cowards and slaves!—

  Oh, ye free hearts that lie dead,

Do you not, even in your graves,

  Shudder, as o'er you we tread?