I am not of those fierce, wild wills, Albeit from loins of warlike line, To wreck laws human and divine Alike, that on a million ills I might erect one sacred shrine To Freedom: nor again am I Of @3these@1 who could be sold and bought To fall before a Juggernaut: I hold all "royal right" a lie— Save that a royal soul hath wrought! It is in the extreme begins And ends all danger: if the Few Would feel, or if the Many knew This fact, the mass of fewer sins Would shrive them in their passing through: O'er all God's footstool not a slave Should under his great glory stand, For men would rise, swift sword in hand, And give each tyrant to his grave And freedom to each lovely land. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THIS DAY I COMPLETE MY THIRTY-SIXTH YEAR by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE BLACK RIDERS: 1 by STEPHEN CRANE FIVE SOULS by WILLIAM NORMAN EWER THE OLD SHIPS by JAMES ELROY FLECKER BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER by WALLACE RICE MURMURINGS IN A FIELD HOSPITAL by CARL SANDBURG |