Not that I love thy children， whose dull eyes

See nothing save their own unlovely woe，

Whose minds know nothing， nothing care to know， -

But that the roar of thy Democracies，

Thy reigns 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 dissonant cries

Delight my discreet soul， else might all kings

By bloody knout or treacherous cannonades

Rob nations of their rights inviolate

And I remain unmoved - and yet， and yet，

These Christs that die upon the barricades，

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