EXCUSE ME, MUSE
’Tis not the hour to sing of pink-hued vaporsSo softly sailing under azure skies;Nor of the shadow warm and so mysteriousCast by the lashes of a woman’s eyes.’Tis not the time for soft euphonious sighingAnd holding converse with pale lunar light.’Tis not the hour for musing and for dreaming,Excuse me, Muse, I must go out and fight.And I will fight as long as infants suckleIn vain at parched breasts devoid of milk;As long as my poor sisters sell their bodiesFor bread and rags, while parasites wear silk.As long as slave and master, thief and pauperRemain such terms as may to man apply,So long, I say, my lyre shall be a weapon,My song shall be the rebel’s battle cry.
’Tis not the hour to sing of pink-hued vaporsSo softly sailing under azure skies;Nor of the shadow warm and so mysteriousCast by the lashes of a woman’s eyes.’Tis not the time for soft euphonious sighingAnd holding converse with pale lunar light.’Tis not the hour for musing and for dreaming,Excuse me, Muse, I must go out and fight.And I will fight as long as infants suckleIn vain at parched breasts devoid of milk;As long as my poor sisters sell their bodiesFor bread and rags, while parasites wear silk.As long as slave and master, thief and pauperRemain such terms as may to man apply,So long, I say, my lyre shall be a weapon,My song shall be the rebel’s battle cry.
’Tis not the hour to sing of pink-hued vaporsSo softly sailing under azure skies;Nor of the shadow warm and so mysteriousCast by the lashes of a woman’s eyes.
’Tis not the hour to sing of pink-hued vapors
So softly sailing under azure skies;
Nor of the shadow warm and so mysterious
Cast by the lashes of a woman’s eyes.
’Tis not the time for soft euphonious sighingAnd holding converse with pale lunar light.’Tis not the hour for musing and for dreaming,Excuse me, Muse, I must go out and fight.
’Tis not the time for soft euphonious sighing
And holding converse with pale lunar light.
’Tis not the hour for musing and for dreaming,
Excuse me, Muse, I must go out and fight.
And I will fight as long as infants suckleIn vain at parched breasts devoid of milk;As long as my poor sisters sell their bodiesFor bread and rags, while parasites wear silk.
And I will fight as long as infants suckle
In vain at parched breasts devoid of milk;
As long as my poor sisters sell their bodies
For bread and rags, while parasites wear silk.
As long as slave and master, thief and pauperRemain such terms as may to man apply,So long, I say, my lyre shall be a weapon,My song shall be the rebel’s battle cry.
As long as slave and master, thief and pauper
Remain such terms as may to man apply,
So long, I say, my lyre shall be a weapon,
My song shall be the rebel’s battle cry.