This page has been validated.
Nor can they bend me to their will
Though black their numbers swell,
Nor bribe with hopes of paradise
Nor force with fears of hell;
Me they may break, but never bend—
I live but to rebel.
I go my way rejoicingly,
I, outcast, spurned and low;
But undreamed worlds may come to birth
From seeds that I may sow,
And if there's pain within my heart
Those fools shall never know.
My kind but scorn your dull "success"—
Your subtle ways to "win,"
We eat our hearts in solitude
Or sear our souls with "sin";
Yet we are better men than you
Who fit so smugly in.
Then let me stand back silently,
The pageant passes by,
And live my life with "outcasts"
Whom your hands would crucify,
And laugh with mirth to see the mob
Do homage to a Lie!
3
