Page:The cry for justice - an anthology of the literature of social protest. - (IA cryforjusticea00sinc).pdf/874

 The Revolution

(See pages 236, 747)

Aye, we behold it, the old world crumbling; a new will rise therefrom; for the lofty goddess Reason comes rustling on the wings of storm, her stately head ringed round with lightnings, a sword in her right hand, a torch in her left. Her eye is stern, is punitive, is cold; and yet what warmth of purest love, what wealth of happiness streams forth toward him who dares to look with steadfast gazing into that eye! Rustling she comes, the ever-rejuvenating mother of mankind; destroying and fulfilling, she fares across the earth; before her soughs the storm, and shakes so fiercely at man's handiwork that vast clouds of dust eclipse the sky, and where her mighty foot is set, there falls in ruins what an idle whim had built for aeons; the hem of her robe sweeps its last remains away. But in her wake there opens out a never-dreamt paradise of happiness, illumined by kindly sunbeams; and where her foot had trodden down, spring fragrant flowers from the soul, and jubilant songs of freed mankind fill the air, scarce silent from the din of battle.

In Memoriam

(See pages 77, 486, 652)

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying clouds, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.