BECAUSE for once the sword broke in her hand, The words she spoke seemed perished for a space; All wrong was brazen, and in every land The tyrants walked abroad with naked face. The waters turned to blood, as rose the Star Of evil Fate denying all release. The rulers smote, the feeble crying "War!" The usurers robbed, the naked crying "Peace!" And her own feet were caught in nets of gold, And her own soul profaned by sects that squirm, And little men climbed her high seats and sold Her honour to the vulture and the worm. And she seemed broken and they thought her dead, The Overmen, so brave against the weak. Has your last word of sophistry been said, O cult of slaves? Then it is hers to speak. Clear the slow mists from her half-darkened eyes, As slow mists parted over Valmy fell, As once again her hands in high surprise Take hold upon the battlements of Hell. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SONG ABOUT SINGING by ANNE REEVE ALDRICH SHE LOOKS BEYOND TO-MORROW by RUTH FITCH BARTLETT GREAT BRITTAINES SUNNES-SET by WILLIAM BASSE FESTUBERT: THE OLD GERMAN LINE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE BONNIE LASS OF ALBANY by ROBERT BURNS DON JUAN: CANTO 10 by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |