Voice says
Women of all the earth shall be Jeanne’s strength.
And she shall go to them,
In peasant clothes–a maid!
And where she finds a woman at her toil,
She’ll stop and say,
“Would you have back your dead?”
And their answer they shall follow Jeanne,
Until her army, swelling like a flood,
Pours down the earth undammed.
What can the kings build up against this tide,
The woe and rage, impatience and despair
Of all the witheld women of all years,
Borne down on them at last?
What can they do, if men no longer mad,
But grim with agony and blood and death,
Leap from the trenches, break the mighty guns,
And with the women turn their faces home?
O, in that hour the puny kings shall see
As some great mountain blotting out the sun,
The shadow of our wrath,
And know defeat–all kings alike–
But people shall be free!