We Weep When We Are

The Possession Of Unlimited Power Will Make A Despot Of Almost Any Man. There Is A Possible Nero In The Gentlest Human Creature That Walks.

My Mind Lets Go A Thousand Things, Like Dates Of Wars And Deaths Of Kings

With The Tears A Land Hath Shed. Their Graves Should Ever Be Green.

After A Debauch Of Thunder-shower, The Weather Takes The Pledge And Signs It With A Rainbow.

Wide Open And Unguarded Stand Our Gates, And Through Them Presses A Wild Motley Throng, Men From The Volga And The Tartar Steppes, Featureless Figures Of The Hoang-ho, Malayan, Scythian, Teuton, Kelt, And Slav. Flying The Old World's Poverty And Scorn, These Bringing With Them Unknown Gods And Rites, Ttose, Tiger Passions, Here To Stretch Their Claws In Street And Alley. What Strange Tongues Are Loud Accents Of Menace Alien To Our Air, Voices That Once The Tower Of Babel Knew! O Liberty, White Goddess! Is It Well To Leave The Gates Unguarded?