The thing that makes me patriot most. Too country-proud to care to boast. Is not th''' imperial thought whose pain Still honours things by Gladstone slain; And though the English women are The pride of peace which wins in war. And that one who is all my pride In England seems personified; ''" The land itself from which she sprung. These very fields I walk among. These hills whose sides and gentle tops Are lit with woods and hung with hops. Those yellow tracts, and near them seen So many tints from brown to green, ''" This is my country, this the love No wish can haunt, no pain reprove. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FRAGMENTARY BLUE by ROBERT FROST THE STORY OF THE END OF THE STORY by JAMES GALVIN MATERNITY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO HELEN KELLER - HUMANITARIAN, SOCIAL DEMOCRAT, GREAT SOUL by EDWIN MARKHAM OFFICE PARTY: DISTAFF VIEW by KAREN SWENSON |