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The Destruction of Public Property by Mobs
With madness seized men their own works destroy,Nay their own lives; they know not what they do;
Destruction for a time is their employ;
In peace they would the scenes of war renew.
'Tis their own work their maddened hands pull down!
For, in his Country, each one has his part,
And each is sharer too in her renown;
His are her works of skill, of use, of art.
For, sadder than the ruins, is the thought,
That men should lose their Patriotic Pride:
Nor feel the stain, which their own deeds have brought
On Liberty's fair name, they have denied;
In one short hour of riot and of spoil
Wasting the fruits of years of peaceful toil.
Poem No. 837; c. 10 August 1877
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