Dreyfus

FRANCE has no dungeons in her island tomb

So deep that she may hide her injustice there;

The cry of innocence, despite her care,

Despite her roll of drums, her cannon’s boom,

Is heard wherever human hearts have room

For sympathy; a sob upon the air,

Echoed and re-echoed everywhere,

It swells and swells, a prophecy of doom,

Thou latest victim of an ancient hate!

In agony so awfully alone,

The world forgets thee not, nor can forget.

Such martyrdoms she feels to be her own,

And sees involved in thine her larger fate;

She questions, and thy foes shall answer yet.