THE dead have been awakened--shall I sleep?
The World's at war with tyrants--shall I crouch?
The harvest's ripe--and shall I pause to reap?
I slumber not; the thorn is in my Couch;
Each day a trumpet soundeth in mine ear,
Its echo in my heart----
The World's at war with tyrants--shall I crouch?
The harvest's ripe--and shall I pause to reap?
I slumber not; the thorn is in my Couch;
Each day a trumpet soundeth in mine ear,
Its echo in my heart----