Email Poem

Your IP Address: 104.23.243.100

From Email:	Required Email Address Not Valid.
To Email:	Email Address Not Valid. Required
Subject	Required
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem	("Devant les trahisons.") {Bk. VII, xvi., Jersey, Dec. 2, 1852.} Before foul treachery and heads hung down, I'll fold my arms, indignant but serene. Oh! faith in fallen things—be thou my crown, My force, my joy, my prop on which I lean: Yes, whilst he's there, or struggle some or fall, O France, dear France, for whom I weep in vain. Tomb of my sires, nest of my loves—my all, I ne'er shall see thee with these eyes again. I shall not see thy sad, sad sounding shore, France, save my duty, I shall all forget; Amongst the true and tried, I'll tug my oar, And rest proscribed to brand the fawning set. O bitter exile, hard, without a term, Thee I accept, nor seek nor care to know Who have down-truckled 'mid the men deemed firm, And who have fled that should have fought the foe. If true a thousand stand, with them I stand; A hundred? 'tis enough: we'll Sylla brave; Ten? put my name down foremost in the band; One?—well, alone—until I find my grave. TORU DUTT.
	Type the characters you see in the picture Required

Member Area