Oh How much more of light makes man's eyes see,
Thy mother nature harmed by just thy selves
Auld ocean once was clean, messed up by thee
The trees decreased to make sofas and shelves
...
Good Kosciusko, thy great name alone
Is a full harvest whence to reap high feeling;
It comes upon us like the glorious pealing
Of the wide spheres -- an everlasting tone.
And now it tells me, that in worlds unknown,
The names of heroes, burst from clouds concealing,
And changed to harmonies, for ever stealing
Through cloudless blue, and round each silver throne.
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