TOUSSAINT, the most unhappy man of men! Whether the whistling Rustic tend his plough Within thy hearing, or thy head be now Pillowed in some deep dungeon's earless den; -- O miserable Chieftain! where and when Wilt thou find patience? Yet die not; do thou Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow: Though fallen thyself, never to rise again, Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies; There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BARD'S EPITAPH by ROBERT BURNS POST-MORTEM by EMILY DICKINSON A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 62 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN BAYARD TAYLOR by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH MOVE UPWARD by ALEXANDER ANDERSON |