HAS he no country? Is he of alien breed? Is this land not his home? Oh, exiled one! Stranger to his own kind, where does he run? How he has shamed us, for the world to read! Oh, carrion, prowling where this people bleed, Grown fat upon disaster, hide from the sun! A scornful nation asks, what has he done With the public trust, the honor, and the need. Not him with glorious hand will we indite, Patriot, Statesman, in the Hall of Fame, Nor will we let him flee into the night Of safe oblivion! But oh -- that name For our sons' sons a moving hand shall write In scarlet letters on the walls of Shame. I felt the burning garments of thy shame. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MONADNOC by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE LIVING TEMPLE by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE LIP AND THE HEART by JOHN QUINCY ADAMS A PORTRAIT by JOSEPH ASHBY-STERRY THE BROTHERS OF BIRCHINGTON; A LAY OF ST. THOMAS A BECKET by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM PRAYER OF A SPORTSMAN by BERTON BRALEY AIRS SUNG AT BROUGHAM CASTLE: DIALOGUE SUNG THE FIRST NIGHT by THOMAS CAMPION ECLOGUE THE THIRD; A MAN, A WOMAN, SIR ROGER by THOMAS CHATTERTON |