Classic Poem

Ten years ago I deemed that if once more
I trod on Grecian soil, 'twould be to find
The presence of a great informing mind
That should the glorious past somewise restore;
And now I cry, with disappointment sore,
``Is it for this that Greece has striven and pined,--
These her rich vales with scarce a labouring hind,
These silent havens on this faded shore?''
Still patience--patience with the toils of Time;
The air of freedom is not always health,
Yet vain without it every hope sublime:
Better a nation's growth, however slow,
That is its own, than any strength or wealth
Conferred or cultured by a friend or foe.