In the summer of 1863, a “Song of the Conscripts” was circulated by the thousands in New York and other cities. One stanza: We’re coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more We leave our homes and firesides with bleeding hearts and sore Since poverty has been our crime, we bow to thy decree; We are the poor and have no wealth to purchase liberty.
-Howard Zinn
Select a background
More quotes by Howard Zinn
Popular Authors
A curated listing of popular authors.