Little, perhaps, thou valuest verse of mine-
Little hast read of what my hand has wrought,
Yet I with thy brave memory would entwine
The muse-s amaranths. For thou well hast fought
For freedom; well her sacred lessons taught;
Well baffled wrong; and delved with far design
Into those elements where treasures shine
Excelling those wherewith our hills are fraught.
And when thy glorious grey head shall make
One spot all-hallowed for the coming days-
Tombed in the golden land for whose sole sake
With labour thou hast furrowed all thy ways,-
Well a young nation shall thy worth appraise
Even through the grief which then shall o-er thee break
To Doctor Lang
Charles Harpur
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Poem topics: brave, freedom, grief, memory, head, young, wrong, sake, shine, nation, verse, labour, golden, worth, break, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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