ONE might believe that natural miseries Had blasted France, and made of it a land Unfit for men; and that in one great band Her sons were bursting forth, to dwell at ease. But 'tis a chosen soil, where sun and breeze Shed gentle favours: rural works are there, And ordinary business without care; Spot rich in all things that can soothe and please! How piteous then that there should be such dearth Of knowledge; that whole myriads should unite To work against themselves such fell despite: Should come in phrensy and in drunken mirth, Impatient to put out the only light Of Liberty that yet remains on earth! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RESOLUTION OF A POETICAL QUESTION CONCERNING FOUR RURAL SISTERS: 2 by CHARLES COTTON AN ARCTIC VISION [JUNE 20, 1867] by FRANCIS BRET HARTE GRENADIER by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN SONG, FR. MEASURE FOR MEASURE by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE ON THE SUN COMING OUT IN THE AFTERNOON by HENRY DAVID THOREAU SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 15. ONE NIGHT WITH THEE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |