Poems
About this book
From the book:Not that I love thy children, whose dull eyesSee nothing save their own unlovely woe,Whose minds know nothing, nothing care to know, -But that the roar of thy Democracies,Thy reigns of Terror, thy great Anarchies,Mirror my wildest passions like the seaAnd give my rage a brother -! Liberty!For this sake only do thy dissonant criesDelight my discreet soul, else might all kingsBy bloody knout or treacherous cannonadesRob nations of their rights inviolateAnd I remain unmoved - and yet, and yet,These Christs that die upon the barricades,God knows it I am with them, in some things.
Subjects
- 821/.8
- art
- classic literature
- english poetry
- fiction
- history and criticism
- irish authors
- literature
- poetry
- poetry (poetic works by one author)
- pr5814 1997
- pre-raphaelitism