SOMEWHERE in cobwebb'd corners I can hear A thin voice pipingly revived of late, Which saith our India is a cumbrous weight, An idle decoration bought too dear. The wiser world contemns not gorgeous gear, And knows that by a just and happy fate The sense of greatness keeps a nation great, Telling her when to fear not -- when to fear! It may be that if hands of greed could steal From England's grasp the envied orient prize, This tide of gold would flood her still, as now; But were she the same England, made to feel A brightness gone from those far-watching eyes, A splendour blotted from that far-watched brow? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VERSES FROM THE GRANDE CHARTREUSE by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE GREEN MOUNTAIN BOYS [MAY 9, 1775] by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE SKELETON IN ARMOR by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW A CANADIAN BOAT SONG; WRITTEN ON THE RIVER ST. LAWRENCE by THOMAS MOORE EPITAPH ON CHARLES II by JOHN WILMOT THE STRAYED REVELLER by MATTHEW ARNOLD ON MRS PRIESTLEY'S LEAVING WARRINGTON by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |