From The Libertarian Labyrinth
- Sweet height of Spring I thou bring'st to me
- Thoughts timed but ill with linnet's song,
- With breathing bud, with robing tree,
- With evening sunshine ling'ring long.
- Thoughts on a throng convened when airs
- Of freedom, trill'd a witch, who charm'd
- To sleep, with dreams that boon was theirs,
- Though, wakeful, Poufr drew nigh them, arm'd.
- Fierce bound! mad flight, of course!—a breath:—
- A bolt of bursting thunder, hurl'd
- By hands unknown whose deed of death
- The siren hush'd;—and woke the world.
- That hour my soul espoused a cause
- Which, like Pandora, call'd from hell
- A swarm of ills, resolved as laws;
- But with them she brought Hope as well!
- That evil fortunes mate in May
- Is told; but did this idle word
- Portend, perchance, that festful day
- When Wrong, matured, shall clasp—the Sword?
- Hark! 'round our globe, the moan of hate
- Epithalamium sounds once more!
- The bells ring: and Key-bearing Fate
- Stands, veil'd and mute, before the door!
C. L. James