Classic Poem

Farewell, England! blessings on thee,
Stern and niggard as thou art;
Harshly, Mother, thou hast used me,
And my bread thou hast refused me,
But 'tis agony to part.
'T will pass over; for I would not
Bear again what I could tell; —
Half the ills that I have suffer'd:
Though I loved thee twice as well.
So — my blessings on thee, England,
And a long and last farewell!

Other regions will provide me
Independence for my age;
Recompense for hard exertion —
For my children, the reversion
Of a goodly heritage.
England — this thou couldst not give me;
England, pamperer of squires,
Landlord-ridden, pride-encumber'd,
Quencher of the poor man's fires; —
But, farewell! My blessing on thee;
Thou art country of my sires.

Though I love, I'm glad to fly thee;
Who would live in hopeless toil,
Evil-steep'd and ill-exampled,
Press'd and jostled, crush'd and trampled,
Interloper on the soil —
If there were one other country
Where an honest man might go:
Winning cornfields from the forest —
All his own, too — blow by blow?
Farewell, England — I regret thee,
But my tears refuse to flow.

Haply o'er the southern ocean
I shall do my part, to rear
A new nation, Saxon-blooded,
Which with plenty crown'd and studded,
To its happy children dear,
Shall eclipse thy fame, O England;
Taught and warn'd alike by thee; —
Mightier with unshackled commerce,
Mightier in her men more free,
Mightier in her virgin vigor,
And her just equality.

But, farewell! My blessing on thee;
Never, till my latest day,
Shall my memory cease to ponder
On thy fate, where'er I wander; —
Never shall I cease to pray
That the many may be happy;
That the few their pride may quell;
That thou may'st in peaceful progress
All thy misery dispel; —
Queen of nations: once their model —
God be with thee! Fare-thee-well!