But Justice we shall do, as sure as set of sun.
Or short, or long, the pathway of your feet,
Stamped on the faces of the innocent dead,
Must lead where tyrant’s road hath ever led.
Alone, O perjured soul, your Justice you shall meet.
No sacrifice the balance of her scale
Can win; no gift of blood and iron can weigh
Against this one mad mother’s agony:
In her demented cry a myriad women wail.
The equinox of outraged earth shall blaze