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By thy weaponed hands, brows helmed, and bare feet spurning
The bared head of a king;
By the storm of sunrise round thee risen and burning,For Greece, the Moslem fetter spurning,
And millions hail with pen and tongue
Our light on all her altars burning?Periphrastic methods spurning,
To my readers all discerningWith tongues still sore from burning,
The Bay State's dust from off their feet
Before my threshold spurning;Just to rest beyond the burning
Outer world—its sneers and spurning—While my languid breast is burning
Light and love full out my heart!
But cruel Fate my hopes is spurning,Then, the weary city spurning,
On this grand repose I gaze,
And my mind, in fancy turning,I'm not through yearning
Ignorance exists
a lot to spurningthese blurred images burning,
my eyes struggling and spurning,