Democracy, those men have done thee wrong, That paint thee flaunting, with a brutal face. Not to Rome's proletarian populace, Nor Paris mobs that round a red flag throng, Nor London slums of saturate sin belong Such names -- deluded, pitiable race -- Though in their husky mutterings we can trace God urging brotherhood upon the strong. Democracy on law and virtue stands: The home it loves and children at the knee; Its bread it earns, its lips can speak in prayer. Though greed and pride would bind its giant hands, I trust the conscience of humanity, See freedom widen in the people's care. |