Adam Mickiewicz: In Memoriam.
And he called for his lute and his lyre
(He needed no servitor scroll)
For his cheek was aglow with the fire
That surged in the depths of his soul!
And he cried – “Poland on to the Fight!
On – on – with twe sword of the Free!
For the Future of Poland is bright,
And Heaven and truth are with thee!”
* * *
And he called for his lute and his lyre;
And his strong heart was bursting almost,
For her flag had been trailed in the mire,
And the battle was fought, – and was lost!
And they said that his soul was too white;
And they said that his lyre was astray;
And they said that his hopes were too bright,
For a home in their city of clay.
And they bade him depart from their skies,
And he bent his disconsolate track
Where Liberty flashes and dies,
And only his spirit looked back.
* * *
And he called for his late and his lyre,
(This time in a for foreign land) –
But fainter the accents of fire,
And his song they could not understand.