Beauty is scarlet attire -
In her hand the flag of revolution.
Fire on her lips
Setting blaze to institution.
Dancing through the angry mobs,
Pulling down the old,
Sweet Liberty cried out to Heaven
From the earth so cold.
"Hear the cry of my children
For freedom in the streets.
Behold the throb of growing pain
In every heart that beats.
The masks they wear are binding them -
Such chains for written word!
How much longer can it last?
How much more can be endured?
Their eyes long to see heaven -
The grace of glorious light.
Come triumphant angels,
And join the common man's plight!"
Liberty's plea was cried in vain
Though the Angels mourned among the slain.
Blind Justice came before those walls
With solemn heart and face -
Immortal sight therein her eyes.
She graced that cursed place
In Purity's stainless robes.
Then spake the woman great:
"Behold, the pattern of this world
Is filled with crim and hate!
Who shall recall the foreign guard
Or the vetran feeble boned?
Who shall mourn the loss of life
Of even he enthroned?
They will never be appeased
Who shall end the bloody flow?
Death leads ever more to death,
This yourselves do know!"
Then Justice stole out likeatheif
While the Angels stood in silent grief.
Above the carnage of man's war
They perched on broken wall.
Then the Phantom black and cold
Appeared as in man's fall.
"Peace, Sisters, know you not
That these men belong to me?
For themselves they sealed this fate
At the mortal tree.
Through bleared eyes they see us now -
The clock is striking for their hour.
Misfortune's table holds their names
Bathed in the crimson shower.
I begin the harvest now -
Long shall the season be.
In the wavering eye of fate,
All paths lead to me!"
Good men sank in the mire and mud,
And the Angels of Bastille wept tears of blood.