Like tigers in some Orient jungle crouched
That wait and watch for blood.
We see her in those dark days before the plunge into the darkness has been taken, as
Meanwhile, through streets still echoing with trade,
Walk grave and thoughtful men,
Whose hands may one day wield the patriot's blade
As lightly as the pen.
Thus he gives us the picture of the beautiful city of his love as
All untroubled in her faith, she waits
The triumph or the tomb.