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When I have borne in memory what has tamed Great Nations; how ennobling thoughts depart When men change swords for ledgers, and desert The student's bower for gold,—some fears unnamed I had, my Country!—am I to be blamed? But, when I think of thee, and what thou art, Verily, in the bottom of my heart, Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed. For dearly must we prize thee; we who find In thee a bulwark of the cause of men; And I by my affection was beguiled: What wonder if a Poet now and then, Among the many movements of his mind, Felt for thee as a lover or a child! |