'T IS like thy patient valour thus to keep, Great Kosciusko, to the rural shade, While freedom's ill-found amulet still is made Pretence for old aggression, and a heap Of selfish mockeries. There, as in the sweep Of stormier fields, thou earnest with thy blade, Transform'd, not inly alter'd, to the spade, Thy never-yielding right to a calm sleep. Nature, 't would seem, would leave to man's worse wit The small and noisier parts of this world's frame, And keep the calm green amplitudes of it Sacred from fopperies and inconstant blame. Cities may change, and sovereigns; but 't is fit, Thou, and the country old, be still the same. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MAKE FRIENDS by ALI IBN ABU TALIB TO THE SHAH (1) by AWHAD AD-DIN 'ALI IBN VAHID MUHAMMAD KHAVARANI TO REV. W. H. MILBURN by LEVI BISHOP GHOST OF THE BEAUTIFUL PAST by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT FEMININE TALK by MAXWELL BODENHEIM IN IMMEMORIAM by EDWARD BRADLEY |