Leaves of Grass, "Suddenly Out of Its Stale and Drowsy"
SUDDENLY out of its stale and drowsy lair, the lair of slaves,
Like lightning Europe le'pt forth . . . . half startled at itself,
Its feet upon the ashes and the rags . . . . Its hands tight to the throats of kings.
O hope and faith! O aching close of lives! O many a sickened heart!
Turn back unto this day, and make yourselves afresh.
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And you, paid to defile the People . . . . you liars mark:
Not for numberless agonies, murders, lusts,
For court thieving in its manifold mean forms,
Worming from his simplicity the poor man's wages;
For many a promise sworn by royal lips, And broken, and laughed at in the breaking,
Then in their power not for all these did the blows strike of personal revenge . . or the heads of the nobles fall; The People scorned the ferocity of kings. But the sweetness of mercy brewed bitter destruction, and the frightened rulers come
back: Each comes in state with his train . . . . hangman, priest and tax-gatherer . . . .
soldier, lawyer, jailer and sycophant. Yet behind all, lo, a Shape, Vague as the night, draped interminably, head front and form in scarlet folds, Whose face and eyes none may see, Out of its robes only this . . . . the red robes, lifted by the arm, One finger pointed high over the top, like the head of a snake appears. Meanwhile corpses lie in new-made graves . . . . bloody corpses of young men: The rope of the gibbet hangs heavily . . . . the bullets of princes are flying . . . .
the creatures of power laugh aloud, And all these things bear fruits . . . . and they are good. Those corpses of young men, Those martyrs that hang from the gibbets . . . those hearts pierced by the gray lead, Cold and motionless as they seem . . live elsewhere with unslaughter'd vitality. They live in other young men, O kings, They live in brothers, again ready to defy you: They were purified by death . . . . They were taught and exalted. Not a grave of the murdered for freedom but grows seed for freedom . . . . in its
turn to bear seed, Which the winds carry afar and re-sow, and the rains and the snows nourish. Not a disembodied spirit can the weapons of tyrants let loose, But it stalks invisibly over the earth . . whispering counseling cautioning. Liberty let others despair of you . . . . I never despair of you. Is the house shut? Is the master away? Nevertheless be ready . . . . be not weary of watching, He will soon return . . . . his messengers come anon.