I have been brave in my way,
Though men did not call me brave;
They deem that I creep away,
If ever a pennon wave
...
Land of hope and glory, Mother of the free,
How may we extol thee, who are born of thee?
...
MY sorrow had pierced me through; it throbbed in my heart like a thorn;
This way and that I stared, as a bird with a broken limb
...
This is my chiefest torment, that behind
The brave and subtle spirit, the swift brain,
There sits and shivers, in a cell of pain,
...
O pertest, most self-satisfied
Of aught that breathes or moves,
See where you sit, with head aside,
To chirp your vulgar loves:
...
BY feathers green, across Casbeen
The pilgrims track the Phoenix flown,
By gems he strew'd in waste and wood,
And jewell'd plumes at random thrown.
...
How small a thing am I, of no repute,
Whirled in the rush of these eternal tides;
Spun daily round upon this orb that rides
...
Clasp hands across the world,
Across the dim sea-line,
Where with bright flags unfurled
Our navies breast the brine;
...
February, bitter February,
Month of hope withheld and promise vain,
Drenching, under fickle smiles, the unwary
Earth with devastating rain.
...