Not that I love thy children, whose dull eyes

See nothing save their own unlovely woe1,

Whose minds know nothing, nothing care to know, -

But that the roar of thy Democracies,

Thy reigns2 of Terror, thy great Anarchies,

Mirror my wildest passions like the sea

And give my rage a brother -! Liberty!

For this sake only do thy dissonant3 cries

Delight my discreet4 soul, else might all kings

By bloody5 knout or treacherous6 cannonades

Rob nations of their rights inviolate7

And I remain unmoved - and yet, and yet,

These Christs that die upon the barricades8,

God knows it I am with them, in some things.