And but their wives and children now
Were home to work the farms.
But soon, like words men whisper forth
Near foes who plot their death,
From farm to farm bad news was borne
On hush’d and trembling breath.
“Fill’d full of ‘red-coats,’[1] Boston seem’d,”
They said, “a wounded prey
That yet drank in fresh draughts of blood[1]
From fleets that fill’d the bay;