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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=392165" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To India</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=392165" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">O INDIA, India, O my lovely land —<br>At whose sweet throat the greedy English Snake,<br>With fangs and lips that suck and never slake,<br>Clings, while around thee, band by stifling band,<br>The loathsome Shape twists, chaining foot and hand —<br>O from this death-swoon must thou never wake,<br>From limbs enfranchised these foul fetters to shake,<br>And, proud among the nations, to rise and stand?<br>Nay, but thine eyes, thine eyes, wherein there stays<br>The patience of that august Faith that scorns<br>The tinsel creed of Christ, dream still and gaze,<br>Where, not within the timeless east and haze,<br>The haunt of that wan moon with fading horns,<br>There breaks the first of Himalayan morns!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Francis+William+Lauderdale+Adams">Francis William Lauderdale Adams</a></strong></div>

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