Page:Songs before sunrise (IA beforesunrisongs00swinrich).pdf/149

 Put forth thine arm, he saith; Fear thou not at all though the bridesman should be Danger, The bridesmaid should be Death. I the bridegroom, am I not with thee, O bridal nation, O wedded France, to strive? To destroy the sins of the earth with divine devastation, Till none be left alive? Lo her growths of sons, foliage of men and frondage, Broad boughs of the old-world tree, With iron of shame and with pruning-hooks of bondage They are shorn from sea to sea. Lo, I set wings to thy feet that have been wingless, Till the utter race be run; Till the priestless temples cry to the thrones made kingless, Are we not also undone? Till the immeasurable Republic arise and lighten Above these quick and dead, And her awful robes be changed, and her red robes whiten, Her warring-robes of red. But thou wouldst not, saying, I am weary and faint to follow, Let me lie down and rest;