BRONZE
For the brand of your hand, casts a pall o'er the land, that enshadows the gleam of the eye,
My sons, deftly sapped of the brawn-hood of man, self-rejected and impotent stand,
My daughters, unhaloed, unhonored, undone, feed the lust of a dominant land.
My sons, deftly sapped of the brawn-hood of man, self-rejected and impotent stand,
My daughters, unhaloed, unhonored, undone, feed the lust of a dominant land.
I would not remember, yet could not forget, how the hearts beating true to your own,
You've tortured, and wounded, and filtered their blood 'till a budding Hegira has blown.
Unstrange is the pathway to Calvary's hill, which I wend in my dumb agony,
Up its perilous height, in the pale morning light, to dissever my own from the tree,
You've tortured, and wounded, and filtered their blood 'till a budding Hegira has blown.
Unstrange is the pathway to Calvary's hill, which I wend in my dumb agony,
Up its perilous height, in the pale morning light, to dissever my own from the tree,
And so I'm away, where the sky-line of day sets the arch of its rainbow afar,
To the land of the north, where the symbol of worth sets the broad gates of combat ajar!
To the land of the north, where the symbol of worth sets the broad gates of combat ajar!
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