NOT that I love thy children, whose dull eyesSee nothing save their own unlovely woe, Whose minds know nothing, nothing care to know, -But that the roar of thy Democracies, Thy reigns of Terror, thy great Anarchies, Mirror my wildest passions like the seaAnd give my rage a brother-! Liberty!For this sake only do thy dissonant criesDelight my discreet soul, else might all kingsBy bloody knout or treacherous cannonadesRob nations of their rights inviolateAnd I remain unmoved-and yet, and yet, These Christs that die upon the ...
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NOT that I love thy children, whose dull eyesSee nothing save their own unlovely woe, Whose minds know nothing, nothing care to know, -But that the roar of thy Democracies, Thy reigns of Terror, thy great Anarchies, Mirror my wildest passions like the seaAnd give my rage a brother-! Liberty!For this sake only do thy dissonant criesDelight my discreet soul, else might all kingsBy bloody knout or treacherous cannonadesRob nations of their rights inviolateAnd I remain unmoved-and yet, and yet, These Christs that die upon the barricades, God knows it I am with them, in some things.NOT that I love thy children, whose dull eyesSee nothing save their own unlovely woe, Whose minds know nothing, nothing care to know, -But that the roar of thy Democracies, Thy reigns of Terror, thy great Anarchies, Mirror my wildest passions like the seaAnd give my rage a brother-! Liberty!For this sake only do thy dissonant criesDelight my discreet soul, else might all kingsBy bloody knout or treacherous cannonadesRob nations of their rights inviolateAnd I remain unmoved-and yet, and yet, These Christs that die upon the barricades, God knows it I am with them, in some things.EAGLE of Austerlitz! where were thy wingsWhen far away upon a barbarous strand, In fight unequal, by an obscure hand, Fell the last scion of thy brood of Kings!Poor boy! thou shalt not flaunt thy cloak of red, Or ride in state through Paris in the vanOf thy returning legions, but insteadThy mother France, free and republican, Shall on thy dead and crownless forehead placeThe better laurels of a soldier's crown, That not dishonoured should thy soul go downTo tell the mighty Sire of thy raceThat France hath kissed the mouth of Liberty, And found it sweeter than his honied bees, And that the giant wave DemocracyBreaks on the shores where Kings l
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Add this copy of Poems, With the Ballad of Reading Gaol (Prince Classics to cart. $18.93, good condition, Sold by Bonita rated 4.0 out of 5 stars, ships from Newport Coast, CA, UNITED STATES, published 2019 by Prince Classics.
