I spilt my blood upon a battlefield To mend the threadbare fabric of your lands -- A plow replaced my broken sword, to yield Bread for your hungry mouth. My willing hands Grew old in humble service to your plan. Your blood flows in my veins -- my seed lie deep Within your fertile soil. I gave all man Can give for peace. Yet, now, alone, I keep A vigil by the pitiful remains Of all that was my life -- my last dream spent Upon the rocks of hate. Beneath your chains Of bitterness, my head is still unbent! Oh Judas country, as I turn from you, Behold the courage of the Wandering Jew! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET TO TARTAR, A TERRIER BEAUTY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES SIX TOWN ECLOGUES: SATURDAY; THE SMALL-POX by MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU PSALM 48 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE ENVY; A FRAGMENT by JANE BOWDLER A DIALOGUE BETWEEN OLD ENGLAND AND NEW by ANNE BRADSTREET ASSOCIATIONS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |