O diamond, beautiful and rare,
Shining on my lady fair,
As a mimic sun on earth,
How canst thou know what gave thee birth—
The eyes blinded for thy sheen,
The whetted hearts to make thee keen,
Virgins' loves to build thee white,
Children's laughs to lend delight,—
Within thy tiny measured span,
Lies a hecatomb of man!
O diamond, beautiful and rare,
Shining on my lady fair,
Couldst thou but know what gave thee life,
The blood, the agony, the strife,
Thou wouldst in utter pain and shame,
Burn thy heart within thy flame,
And fall black ashes on the floor,
Avenger of the countless poor!
