Classic Poem

France of the Old Misrule!
Horror in Ridicule
Bring from the Past!
Loathsome with living forms,
Ring'd with corruption-worms,
Come as thou wast!
Foul as our robber's den,
Gorg'd with the souls of men,
Number thy slain!
Speak! with their myriad tongues,
Speak of unnumber'd wrongs!
Not twice in vain!
Trumpet the thunder's tone!
Living by dead Foulon
Warn and appal!
(When the red arm was bared,
Who could be better spar'd
By one and all?)
While there's time, if there's time,
Crimemaking Law and Crime
Teach, by his fate!
Why should thy accents stern
Say of the Slow-to-learn,
“They learn'd too late?”