I CANNOT boast myself cosmopolite; I own to "insularity," although 'Tis fall'n from fashion, as full well I know. For somehow, being a plain and simple wight, I am skin-deep a child of the new light, But chiefly am mere Englishman below, Of island-fostering; and can hate a foe, And trust my kin before the Muscovite. Whom shall I trust if not my kin? And whom Account so near in natural bonds as these Born of my mother England's mighty womb, Nursed on my mother England's mighty knees, And lull'd as I was lull'd in glory and gloom With cradle-song of her protecting seas? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTER THE BURIAL by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL VALENTINES TO MY MOTHER: 1876 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI A RECIPE FOR SALAD by SYDNEY SMITH PORTRAIT OF A LADY by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE BLACK MOUSQUETAIRE; A LEGEND OF FRANCE by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM ECHOES OF SPRING: 7 by MATHILDE BLIND THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: CHANGE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON EPIGRAM ON ELPHINSTONE'S TRANSLATION OF MARTIAL'S EPIGRAMS by ROBERT BURNS |