The mountains look on Boston--
And Boston looks on the sea;
And musing there an hour alone,
I dream'd that Celtics might yet be Big Three
For, looking at the Hall of Fame,
I could not deem myself a slave.
Must we but weep o'er days more blest?
Must we but blush? – Our fathers bled.
Earth! render back from out thy breast
A remnant of our Celtic best!
Of the 17 grant but one,
And let a new dynasty begin!
(adaptation from the Isles of Greece)