Ode on the Peace, An - Part 20

She fearless prints the polar snows,
Mid' horrors that reject the day;
Along the burning line she glows,
Nor shrinks beneath the torrid ray:
She opens India's glitt'ring mine,
Where streams of light reflected shine;
Wasts the bright gems to Britain's temp'rate vale,
And breathes her odours on the northern gale.
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.