Classic Poem

Behold, we have gathered together our battleships, near and afar;
Their decks they are cleared for action, their guns they are primed for war.
From the East to the West there is hurry; in the North and the South a peal
Of hammers in fort and ship-yard, and the clamor and clang of steel;
And the rush and roar of engines, and clanking of derrick and crane,—
Thou art weighed in the scales and found wanting, the balance of God, O Spain!

Behold, I have stood on the mountains, and this was writ in the sky:
“She is weighed in the scales and found wanting, the balance God holds on high!”
The balance He once weighed Babylon, the Mother of Harlots, in.
One scale holds thy pride and power and empire, begotten of sin,
Heavy with woe and torture, the crimes of a thousand years,
Mortared and welded together with fire and blood and tears;
In the other, for justice and mercy, a blade with never a stain,
Is laid the Sword of Liberty, and the balance dips, O Spain!

Summon thy vessels together! great is thy need for these!
Cristobal Colon, Vizcaya, Oquendo, Marie Therese.
Let them be strong and many, for a vision I had by night,
That the ancient wrongs thou hast done the world came howling to the fight;
From the New World shores they gathered. Inca and Azlee, slain,
To the Cuban shot but yesterday, and our own dead seamen, Spain!

Summon thy ships together, gather a mighty fleet!
For a strong young nation is arming that never hath known defeat.
Summon thy ships together, there on thy blood-stained sands!
For a shadowy army gathers with manacled feet and hands,
A shadowy host of sorrows and of shames, too black to tell,
That reach with their horrible wounds for thee to drag thee down to hell;
Myriad phantoms and spectres, thou warrest against in vain!
Thou art weighed in the scales and found wanting, the balance of God, O Spain!