Classic Poem

Mon petit coin.

No! in my corner let me dream;
The world no joy supplies:
Forth from your gallies, good my friends,
A weary convict flies:
And through the desert that I trace
I fly as free as Bedouins' race
Here in my little corner blest,
For pity's sake, friends, let me rest!

The arm of power I brave, and weigh
Our rights, our fetters, here;
On kings in solemn judgment sit,
O'er subjects drop a tear
Far off, with bold prophetic eye,
A smiling future I espy:
Here in my little corner blest,
For pity's sake, friends, let me rest!

With fairy wand, in doing good
Is here my chief delight;
Proud trophies raising, palaces
I banish from my sight:
Those who from me their thrones derive
To be beloved will seek and strive
Here in my little corner blest,
For pity's sake, friends, let me rest!

Here doth my soul on borrowed wings,
A joyous seraph, fly;
And see our kings, all downward hurled,
In flames eternal lie:
One of their race escapes alone;
His glory I myself have known.
Here in my little corner blest,
For pity's sake, friends, let me rest!

Vows for my country thus I form,
That Heaven approving hears:
Respect my dreams — to me your world
Of little worth appears:
Mine be the Muses' favor, lent
To days upon Parnassus spent!
Here in my little corner blest,
For pity's sake, friends, let me rest!