Uncollected Poems of James Russell Lowell | ||
XXIII
Some thirst of vengeance slakes this side the tomb,And ceases with the mournful bell's long toll
That calls the victim to his cell of gloom—
But we—oh deepest bloodspot on the scroll
Of God's recording angel! we would doom
Alike the Redman's body and his soul:
We sell him first our whiskey, then the Word,
Then punish Gospel-breaking with the sword!
Uncollected Poems of James Russell Lowell | ||