| 1 COURAGE! my brother or my sister! |
| Keep on! Liberty is to be subserved, whatever occurs; |
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That is nothing, that is quell'd by one or two failures,
or any number of failures, |
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Or by the indifference or ingratitude of the people, or
by any unfaithfulness, |
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Or the show of the tushes of power, soldiers, cannon,
penal statutes. |
|
2
What we believe in waits latent forever through all
the continents, and all the islands and archi- pelagos of the sea. |
|
3
What we believe in invites no one, promises nothing,
sits in calmness and light, is positive and com- posed, knows no discouragement, |
| Waiting patiently, waiting its time. |
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4
The battle rages with many a loud alarm, and fre-
quent advance and retreat, |
| The infidel triumphs—or supposes he triumphs, |
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The prison, scaffold, garrote, hand-cuffs, iron necklace
and anklet, lead-balls, do their work, |
| The named and unnamed heroes pass to other spheres, |
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The great speakers and writers are exiled—they lie sick
in distant lands, |
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The cause is asleep—the strongest throats are still,
choked with their own blood, |
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The young men drop their eyelashes toward the ground
when they meet; |
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But for all this, liberty has not gone out of the place,
nor the infidel enter'd into possession. |
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5
When liberty goes out of a place, it is not the first
to go, nor the second or third to go, |
| It waits for all the rest to go—it is the last. |
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6
When there are no more memories of heroes and
martyrs, |
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And when all life, and all the souls of men and women
are discharged from any part of the earth, |
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Then only shall liberty be discharged from that part of
the earth, |
| And the infidel and the tyrant come into possession. |
| 7 Then courage! revolter! revoltress! |
| For till all ceases, neither must you cease. |
|
8
I do not know what you are for, (I do not know what
I am for myself, nor what anything is for,) |
| But I will search carefully for it even in being foil'd, |
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In defeat, poverty, imprisonment—for they too are
great. |
| 9 Did we think victory great? |
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So it is—But now it seems to me, when it cannot be
help'd, that defeat is great, |
| And that death and dismay are great. |