Classic Poem

(“Prions!”)

 Let us pray! Lo, the shadow serene!
God, toward Thee our arms are upraised and our eyes.
They who proffer Thee here their tears and their chain
Are the most sorrowful Thy sorrow tries.
Most honour have they being possessed of most pain.

Let us suffer! The crime will take flight.
Birds passing,—our cottages!
Winds passing,—on weary knees
Mothers, sisters, weep there day and night!
Winds, tell them our miseries!
Birds, bear our heart's love to their sight!

 Our thought is uplifted to Thee,
God! The proscribed we beseech thee forget,
But give back her old glory to France whom we see
Shame-smitten; ay! slay us, us sorrow-beset,
Hot day but consigns to chill night's agony!

 Let us suffer! The crime—

 As a bowman striketh a mark,
The fierce sun smites us with shafts of fire;
After dire day-labour, no sleep in night dark;
The bat that takes wing from the marish-mire,—
Fever,—flaps noiseless our brows—and leaves stark.

 Let us suffer! The crime—

 Athirst! The scant water-drop burns!
An-hungered!—black bread! work, work, ye accurst!
At each stroke of the pick wild laughter returns
Loud-echoed; lo, from the soil Death hath burst,
Round a man folds arms, and to sleep anew turns.

 Let us suffer! The crime—

 What matters it! Nothing can tame
Us; we are tortured and we are content.
And we thank high God toward Whom like flame
Our hymn burneth, that unto us suffering is sent,
When all they that endure not suffering bear shame.

 Let us suffer! The crime—

 Live the Republic world-great!
Peace to the vast mysterious even!
Peace to the dead sweet slumber doth sate!
To wan ocean peace, that blends beneath heaven
Africa's sob with Cayenne's wail of hate!

Let us suffer! The crime will take flight.
Birds passing,—our cottages!
Winds passing,—on weary knees
Mothers, sisters, weep there day and night!
Winds, tell them our miseries!
Birds, bear our heart's love to their sight!