Not that I love thy children， whose dull eyes

　　See nothing save their own unlovely woe，

　　Whose minds know nothing， nothing care to know， -

　　But that the roar of thy Democracies，

　　Thy reigns of Terror， thy great Anarchies，

　　Mirror my wildest passions like the sea

　　And give my rage a brother -！ Liberty！

　　For this sake only do thy dissonant cries

　　Delight my discreet soul， else might all kings

　　By bloody knout or treacherous cannonades

　　Rob nations of their rights inviolate

　　And I remain unmoved - and yet， and yet，

　　These Christs that die upon the barricades，

　　God knows it I am with them， in some things.