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.