There was no blood upon her maiden robes Sunn'd by those orient skies; But round about the circles of the globes Of her keen And in her raiment's hem… - Alfred Tennyson

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There was no blood upon her maiden robes Sunn'd by those orient skies; But round about the circles of the globes Of her keen And in her raiment's hem was traced in flame WISDOM, a name to shake All evil dreams of power — a sacred name. And when she spake, Her words did gather thunder as they ran, And as the lightning to the thunder Which follows it, riving the spirit of man, Making earth wonder, So was their meaning to her words. No sword Of wrath her right arm whirl'd, But one poor poet's scroll, and with his word She shook the world.