Lord! call thy pallid angel, The tamer of the strong! And bid him whip with want and woe The champions of the wrong! O, say not thou to ruin's flood, "Up, sluggard! why so slow?" But alone, let them groan, The lowest of the low; And basely beg the bread they curse, Where millions curse them now! No; wake not thou the giant Who drinks hot blood for wine; And shouts unto the east and west, In thunder-tones like thine; Till the slow to move rush all at once, An avalanche of men, While he raves over waves That need no whirlwind then; Though slow to move, moved all at once, A sea, a sea of men! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PROGRESSIVE HEALTH by CARL DENNIS A STORM IN THE DISTANCE (AMONG THE GEORGIAN HILLS) by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE SONNET: 2 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 3. AR-RAHEEM by EDWIN ARNOLD THE LAY OF THE OLD WOMAN CLOTHED IN GREY; A LEGEND OF DOVER by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM ASPIRATIONS: 10 by MATHILDE BLIND |