O BLINDED readers of the scroll of time, Think ye that freedom yields her hand to crime? Or the fair whiteness of her virginal bud Of heavenly hope, would desecrate with blood? Her eyes are chastened lightnings, and the fire Of her divinely purified desire Burns not in ambush by assassins trod, But on the holiest mountain heights of God! So, ye that fain would meet her fond embrace, Purge the base soul, unmask the treacherous face, Drop bowl or dagger while ye bring her naught But the grand worship of a selfless thought! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WITCH by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE THE WILDERNESS TRANSFORMED by PHILIP DODDRIDGE MODERN MANNERS by MARY (CUMBERLAND) ALCOCK THE SISTERS by MARY REYNOLDS ALDIS THE WINNING OF POMONA by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |