Classic Poem

Les fous.

Soldiers in lead, as sure we are,
All trimmed and measured to a par,
If from the ranks some dare step out,
" Down with the madmen! " quick we shout.
They're persecuted — killed — and we
Have leisure then their worth to see:
Their statues then our cities grace,
In honor of the human race.

How oft perchance a thought aroused,
Poor maiden, waits to be espoused;
Fools treat her as one void of reason,
And sages hint, " Lie hid a season! "
At length some madman, who can look
Beyond to-day, in quiet nook
Meets her, and weds — she teems apace
With fruit to bless the human race.

I've marked the prophet St Simon,
Once wealthy, into trouble thrown —
Him, who from base to top was skilled
The social fabric to rebuild:
In age, engrossed by this his task,
Aid for this cause he deigned to ask,
Sure that his scheme must needs embrace
What best could save the human race.

" Rise, people! " hear we Fourier urge,
" No more deceived, from slime emerge!
Work; but your strength let union teach
In sphere where each is drawn to each.
Earth, after such disasters past,
A marriage makes with Heaven at last:
The law that keeps the stars in place
Endows with peace the human race. "
To freedom Enfantin invites
Woman, and bids her share our rights
" Fie! " say you, " these three dreamers all
Pulled down by ridicule must fall: " —
But whilst our globe, sirs, seeks in vain
The path of happiness to gain,
Honor the madmen who can trace
Gay dreams, to please the human race.

Who a new world the first descried?
A madman laughed at far and wide!
On blood-stained cross a madman dies —
For us behold a God arise!
If day should fail to-morrow duly
To break — why then, to-morrow, truly,
Some madman would in such a case
Light with his torch the human race.