The passion and anguish
Of your sisters, your children who languish
Near? Ah, not near—
Far off by the uttermost sea!
"Who gave ye your brains to plan—
Your hearts to suffer and bleed?
Why call ye on heaven—
'T is the earth that to you is given!
Plead, ye may plead,
But for man I work through man.
"Who gave ye a voice to utter
Your tale to the wind and the sea?
One word well spoken
And the iron gates are broken!
From me, yea, from me
The word that ye will not mutter.
"I love not murder but ruth.
Begone from my sight ye who take
The knife of the coward—
Even ye who by heaven were dowered!
Wake ye, O wake,
And strike with the sword of Truth!
"Fear ye lest I misprize ye—
I who fashioned not brutes, but men.
After the lightning
And darkness—the dawn's red brightening!
Men! Be ye men!
Lest I who made ye despise ye!"
