"COME, let us make a new world," said the proud, -- "The iron image of our perfect plan. Let those who cannot yield to those who can. No place for tears, or pity, or the crowd Of weaklings. Let no patriot's head be bowed With his sire's shame: call no one courtesan If she be breeder of the Mightier Man Whose valor vaunts our glory far and loud." Mad pupils of a mad philosopher, Think ye you have but armies to subdue? Your foe is Woman! Hear the march of her Through centuries, from the caverns to the blue Of visioned peaks. Wrong ruled the years that were, But Justice, queened by Pity, rules the new. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOST PLEIAD by WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS THE GUERDON by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE PRODIGAL'S BROTHER SPEAKS by BESS SAMUEL AYRES TO THE LARK by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SPRING PLOWING by RUTH E. BILLEY |