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Leaves of Grass (1881-82)
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O STAR OF FRANCE.
1870-71.
The brightness of thy hope and strength and fame, |
Like some proud ship that led the fleet so long, |
Beseems to-day a wreck driven by the gale, a mastless hulk, |
And 'mid its teeming madden'd half-drown'd crowds, |
Orb not of France alone, pale symbol of my soul, its dearest
hopes,
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The struggle and the daring, rage divine for liberty, |
Of aspirations toward the far ideal, enthusiast's dreams of brother-
hood,
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Of terror to the tyrant and the priest. |
Star crucified—by traitors sold, |
Star panting o'er a land of death, heroic land, |
Strange, passionate, mocking, frivolous land. |
Miserable! yet for thy errors, vanities, sins, I will not now rebuke
thee,
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Thy unexampled woes and pangs have quell'd them all, |
In that amid thy many faults thou ever aimedst highly, |
In that thou wouldst not really sell thyself however great the price, |
In that thou surely wakedst weeping from thy drugg'd sleep, |
In that alone among thy sisters thou, giantess, didst rend the ones
that shamed thee,
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In that thou couldst not, wouldst not, wear the usual chains, |
This cross, thy livid face, thy pierced hands and feet, |
The spear thrust in thy side. |
O star! O ship of France, beat back and baffled long! |
Bear up O smitten orb! O ship continue on! |
Sure as the ship of all, the Earth itself, |
Product of deathly fire and turbulent chaos, |
Forth from its spasms of fury and its poisons, |
Issuing at last in perfect power and beauty, |
Onward beneath the sun following its course, |
So thee O ship of France! |
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Finish'd the days, the clouds dispel'd, |
The travail o'er, the long-sought extrication, |
When lo! reborn, high o'er the European world, |
(In gladness answering thence, as face afar to face, reflecting ours
Columbia,)
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Again thy star O France, fair lustrous star, |
In heavenly peace, clearer, more bright than ever, |
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