SOMEWHERE in cobwebb'd corners I can hear A thin voice pipingly revived of late, Which saith our India is a cumbrous weight, An idle decoration bought too dear. The wiser world contemns not gorgeous gear, And knows that by a just and happy fate The sense of greatness keeps a nation great, Telling her when to fear not -- when to fear! It may be that if hands of greed could steal From England's grasp the envied orient prize, This tide of gold would flood her still, as now; But were she the same England, made to feel A brightness gone from those far-watching eyes, A splendour blotted from that far-watched brow? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GRANDMITHER, THINK NOT I FORGET by WILLA SIBERT CATHER INDIAN WOMAN'S DEATH-SONG by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS HERE LIES A LADY by JOHN CROWE RANSOM A SEA-SPELL (FOR A PICTURE) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |