![]() | The Poems of Thomas Davis | ![]() |
SWEET AND SAD.
A PRISON SERMON.
I
'Tis sweet to climb the mountain's crest,And run, like deer-hound, down its breast;
'Tis sweet to snuff the taintless air,
And sweep the sea with haughty stare:
And, sad it is, when iron bars
Keep watch between you and the stars;
And sad to find your footstep stayed
By prison-wall and palisade:
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A prisoner for ever,
With no destiny
To do, or to endeavour;
Better life to spend
A martyr or confessor,
Than in silence bend
To alien and oppressor.
II
'Tis sweet to rule an ample realm,Through weal and woe to hold the helm;
And sweet to strew, with plenteous hand,
Strength, health, and beauty, round your land:
And sad it is to be unprized,
While dotards rule, unrecognized;
And sad your little ones to see
Writhe in the gripe of poverty:
But 'twere better pine
In rags and gnawing hunger,
While around you whine
Your elder and your younger;
Better lie in pain,
And rise in pain to-morrow,
Than o'er millions reign,
While those millions sorrow.
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III
'Tis sweet to own a quiet hearth,Begirt by constancy and mirth;
'Twere sweet to feel your dying clasp
Returned by friendship's steady grasp:
And sad it is, to spend your life,
Like sea-bird in the ceaseless strife—
Your lullaby the ocean's roar,
Your resting-place a foreign shore:
But 'twere better live,
Like ship caught by Lofoden,
Than your spirit give
To be by chains corroden;
Best of all to yield
Your latest breath, when lying
On a victor field,
With the green flag flying!
IV
Human joy and human sorrow,Light or shade from conscience borrow;
The tyrant's crown is lined with flame,
Life never paid the coward's shame:
The miser's lock is never sure,
The traitor's home is never pure;
While seraphs guard, and cherubs tend
The good man's life and brave man's end:
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Is the patriot's prison,
Hymning through its air—
“Freedom hath arisen,
Oft from statesmen's strife,
Oft from battle's flashes,
Oft from hero's life,
Oftenest from his ashes!”
![]() | The Poems of Thomas Davis | ![]() |