Are often sought, till goodness slips,
But it is hard to get away
When one has got you in its grips.
The partisans submit, and say,
“It will be well, if I obey,”
Their acquiescence in advance
Leaving injustice free to play.
At curbing of free speech their glance
Is seldom seen to look askance,
“For I have no great need to tell”
Excuse speaks as though in a trance.
“I need not fear ‘the wrath of hell,’
Not, so to speak, an ‘infidel,’
For, civil rights lost to eclipse,
Magical thoughts will keep me well.”