"My soul is sunk in all--suffusing shame"

My soul is sunk in all—suffusing shame;

Yet not for any individual sin,

But that the world's original fair fame—

My own land's most—is not what it hath been.

Shrieks of intolerable bondage smite,

Without response, its comfortable ears,

Making a craven compromise with Might,

For their own luxury, of others' tears.

Better than this the sanguinary crash

Of fratricidal strokes, and nerveful hate!

So do I hope to hear the sabres clash

And tumbrils rattle when the snows abate.

Love peace who will—I for mankind prefer,

To dungeon or disgrace, a sepulchre.