Poems (Waldenburg)/France 1871

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FRANCE 1871.
O France, brave France thou standest pale and bleeding,
Thy lilies droop blood-sprinkled from thy battle-mailéd hands,
Thy children cling unto thy garments pleading
And look to thee for freedom from their bands!

Beneath thy feet lie crown and sceptre broken,
Th' imperial seal effaced from thy raiment evermore.
The grandest word the world has ever spoken
Thy lips have uttered clear o'er cannon's roar.
Oh thy sad eyes shall through the war-cloud see
A star bright through the thund'rous rain of battle shine,
That star, the glorious star of Liberty—

Shall yet, O France, be thine.
And is great Caesar dead? what then, not so
The heroic souls of France the brave, the free,
Her legions live, the same that snow
Of Moscow suffered, gained Lodi,
Marengo, Austerlitz and all that won
The first great empire for Napoleon.

Shall these not live again in this great cry
For Liberty, not empire or a king?
A free Republic shouteth to the sky,
Will not her children rally strong and cling
Unto her? Yes; where Notre Dame's gray towers
 ​Rear their great shadows dim, beside the Seine,
O'er mounts, and southern bowers,
From sea coast, and from plain;
Shall pierce that call for Liberty,
And France shall all her children see
United stand, a Nation free!

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