cold, from slander,
discontent, and sloth,
That walk in beasts and birds of night, driven back by the sandy desert,
Like pestilent fogs round cities of men; and the happy earth sing in its
course,
The mild peaceable nations be opened to heaven, and men walk with their
fathers in bliss."
Then hear the first voice of the morning: "Depart, O clouds of night,
and no more
Return; be withdrawn cloudy war, troops of warriors depart, nor around
our peaceable city
Breathe fires; but ten miles from Paris let all be peace, nor a soldier
be seen!"'

From A SONG OF LIBERTY

The Eternal Female groaned! It was heard over all the earth.

Albion's coast is sick, silent. The American meadows faint!

Shadows of Prophecy shiver along by the lakes and the
rivers, and mutter across the ocean. France, rend down,
thy dungeon!

* * * * *

Look up! look up! O citizen of London, enlarge thy
countenance! O Jew, leave counting gold! return to thy
oil and wine. O African! black African! Go, winged
thought, widen his forehead!

* * * * *

With thunder and fire, leading his starry hosts through
the waste wilderness, he promulgates his ten commands,
glancing his beamy eyelids over the deep in dark dismay.

Where the son of fire in his eastern cloud, while the
morning plumes her golden breast,

Spurning the clouds written with curses, stamps the
stony law to dust, loosing the eternal horses from the dens
of night, crying: _Empire is no more! and now the lion
and wolf shall cease_.

CHORUS

Let the Priests of the Raven of dawn no longer, in
deadly black, with hoarse note curse the sons of joy! Nor
his accepted brethren--whom, tyrant, he calls free--lay
the bound or build the roof! Nor pale Religion's lechery
call that virginity that wishes but acts not!

For everything that lives is holy!

THE FLY

Little Fly,
Thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.

Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?

For I dance,
And drink, and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life
And strength and breath,
And the want
Of thought is death;

Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live
Or if I die.

THE TIGER

Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
Wha