Am I not he that hath made thee and begotten thee,
 I, God, the spirit of man?
Wherefore now these eighteen years hast thou forgotten me,
 From whom thy life began?
Thy life-blood and thy life-breath and thy beauty,
 Thy might of hands and feet,
Thy soul made strong for divinity of duty
 And service which was sweet.
Through the red sea brimmed with blood didst thou not follow me,
 As one that walks in trance?
Was the storm strong to break or the sea to swallow thee,
 When thou wast free and France?
I am Freedom, God and man, O France, that plead with thee;
 How long now shall I plead?
Was I not with thee in travail, and in need with thee,
 Thy sore travail and need?
Thou wast fairest and first of my virgin-vested daughters,
 Fairest and foremost thou;
And thy breast was white, though thy hands were red with slaughters,
 Thy breast, a harlot's now.
O foolish virgin and fair among the fallen,
 A ruin where satyrs dance,
A garden wasted for beasts to crawl and brawl in,
 What hast thou done with France?
Where is she who bared her bosom but to thunder,
 Her brow to storm and flame,
And before her face was the red sea cloven in sunder
 And all its waves made tame?
And the surf wherein the broad-based rocks were shaking
 She saw far off divide,
At the blast of the breath of the battle blown and breaking,
 And weight of wind and tide;
And the ravin and the ruin of throned nations
 And every royal race,
And the kingdoms and kings from the state of their high stations
 That fell before her face.
Yea, great was the fall of them, all that rose against her,
 From the earth's old-historied heights;
For my hands were fire, and my wings as walls that fenced her,
 Mine eyes as pilot-lights.
Not as guerdons given of kings the gifts I brought her,
 Not strengths that pass away;
But my heart, my breath of life, O France, O daughter,
 I gave thee in that day.
Yea, the heart's blood of a very God I gave thee,
 Breathed in thy mouth his breath;
Was my word as a man's, having no more strength to save thee
 From this worse thing than death?
Didst thou dream of it only, the day that I stood nigh thee,
 Was all its light a dream?
When that iron surf roared backwards and went by thee
 Unscathed of storm or stream:
When thy sons rose up and thy young men stood together,
 One equal face of fight,
And my flag swam high as the swimming sea-foam's feather,
 Laughing, a lamp of light?
Ah the lordly laughter and light of it, that lightened
 Heaven-high, the heaven's whole length!
Ah the hearts of heroes pierced, the bright lips whitened
 Of strong men in their strength!
Ah the banner-poles, the stretch of straightening streamers
 Straining their full reach out!
Ah the men's hands making true the dreams of dreamers,
 The hopes brought forth in doubt!
Ah the noise of horse, the charge and thunder of drumming,
 And swaying and sweep of swords!
Ah the light that led them through of the world's life coming,
 Clear of its lies and lords!
By the lightning of the lips of guns whose flashes
 Made plain the strayed world's way;
By the flame that left her dead old sins in ashes,
 Swept out of sight of day;
By thy children whose bare feet were shod with thunder,
 Their bare hands mailed with fire;
By the faith that went with them, waking fear and wonder,
 Heart's love and high desire;
By the tumult of the waves of nations waking
 Blind in the loud wide night;
By the wind that went on the world's waste waters, making
 Their marble darkness white,
As the flash of the flakes of the foam flared lamplike, leaping
 From wave to gladdening wave,
Making wide the fast-shut eyes of thraldom sleeping
 The sleep of the unclean grave;
By the fire of equality, terrible, devouring,
 Divine, that brought forth good;
By the lands it purged and wasted and left flowering
 With bloom of brotherhood;
By the lips of fraternity that for love's sake uttered
 Fierce words and fires of death,
But the eyes were deep as love's, and the fierce lips fluttered
 With love's own living breath;
By thy weaponed hands, brows helmed, and bare feet spurning
 The bared head of a king;
By the storm of sunrise round thee risen and burning,
 Why hast thou done this thing?
Thou hast mixed thy limbs with the son of a harlot, a stranger,
 Mouth to mouth, limb to limb,
Thou, bride of a God, because of the bridesman Danger,
 To bring forth seed to him.
For thou thoughtest inly, the terrible bridegroom wakes me,
 When I would sleep, to go;
The fire of his mouth consumes, and the red kiss shakes me,
 More bitter than a blow.
Rise up, my beloved, go forth to meet the stranger,
 Put forth thine arm, he saith;
Fear thou not at all though the bridesman should be Danger,
 The bridesmaid sh