FRANCE has no dungeons in her island tomb So deep that she may hide her injustice there; The cry of innocence, despite her care, Despite her roll of drums, her cannon's boom, Is heard wherever human hearts have room For sympathy; a sob upon the air, Echoed and re-echoed everywhere, It swells and swells, a prophecy of doom, Thou latest victim of an ancient hate! In agony so awfully alone, The world forgets thee not, nor can forget. Such martyrdoms she feels to be her own, And sees involved in thine her larger fate; She questions, and thy foes shall answer yet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHERE? by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE HOUSEKEEPER by ROBERT FROST STANZAS FOR MUSIC (1) by GEORGE GORDON BYRON A WINTER WISH by ROBERT HINCKLEY MESSINGER FIRST FIG by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY |