I spilt my blood upon a battlefield To mend the threadbare fabric of your lands -- A plow replaced my broken sword, to yield Bread for your hungry mouth. My willing hands Grew old in humble service to your plan. Your blood flows in my veins -- my seed lie deep Within your fertile soil. I gave all man Can give for peace. Yet, now, alone, I keep A vigil by the pitiful remains Of all that was my life -- my last dream spent Upon the rocks of hate. Beneath your chains Of bitterness, my head is still unbent! Oh Judas country, as I turn from you, Behold the courage of the Wandering Jew! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SECOND BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 18 by THOMAS CAMPION THE TEARES OF THE MUSES by EDMUND SPENSER TO AMERICA, ON HER FIRST SONS FALLEN IN THE GREAT WAR by E. M. WALKER GULLS by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE SWORD by ABU BAKR OF MARRAKESH ONE WOMAN by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |