'T IS not the President alone Who, stricken by that bullet, fell The assassin's shot that laid him prone Pierced a great nation's heart as well; And when the baleful tidings sped From lip to lip throughout the crowd, Then, as they deemed their ruler dead, 'T was Liberty that cried aloud. Ay, Liberty! for where the foam Of oceans twain marks out the coast 'T is there, in Freedom's very home, That anarchy has maimed its host; There 't is that it has turned to bite The hand that fed it; there repaid A country's welcome with black spite; There, Judas-like, that land betrayed. For 't is no despot that 's laid low, But a free nation 's chosen chief; A free man, stricken by a blow Base, dastardly, past all belief. And Tyranny exulting hears The tidings flashed across the sea; While stern Repression hugs her fears, And mouths them in a harsh decree. Meanwhile the cloud, though black as death, Is lined with hopes, hopes light as life, And Liberty that, scant of breath, Had watched the issue of the strife, Fills the glad air with grateful cries To find the sun no more obscured, And with new yearnings in her eyes Climbs to her watch-tower -- reassured. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GUARDIAN OF THE RED DISK (SPOKEN BY A CITIZEN OF MALTA - 1300) by EMMA LAZARUS LORD, HEAR MY PRAYER; A PARAPHRASE OF THE 102ND PSALM by JOHN CLARE VOLUNTARIES by RALPH WALDO EMERSON HYMN IX by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE KNITTING by MARGARET BARBER |