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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Elizabeth Pullen

A Citizen of Cosmopolis

WHAT is the name of your country—where

Is the land of your love that you leave behind?

And what is the country to which you fare,

And what is the hope that you have in mind?—

“My land is wherever my rest I find,

My home is wherever I chance to be,

My way and mine end are by fate assigned—

Io vengo da Cosmopoli!”

Is there no woman whose songs ensnare

Your heart to follow, yet unresigned?

No subtle thread of a golden hair,

Like Lilith’s hair, round your heart entwined?—

“In no fetter of gold is my heart confined,

No siren lures me across the sea,

I am not to hold, I am not to bind—

Io vengo da Cosmopoli!”

When flames of the burning cities flare,

And towers fall down, being undermined,

When drums are beaten and trumpets blare,

And the neigh of the war-horse is on the wind,—

Under which king?—“Since Fortune is blind

And I am her soldier, I do not see

Or friend or foe in the ranks aligned:

Io vengo da Cosmopoli!”

“The world, my lords, has been cruel and kind,—

I have laughed and suffered, but not repined:

If I live or die matters little to me,

Or whether my grave with a cross be signed—

Io vengo da Cosmopoli!”