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Poems 1817by John Keats

To Kosciusko

 Good Kosciusko, thy great name alone   Is a full harvest whence to reap high feeling;   It comes upon us like the glorious pealing Of the wide spheres--an everlasting tone. And now it tells me, that in worlds unknown,   The names of heroes, burst from clouds concealing,   And changed to harmonies, for ever stealing Through cloudless blue, and round each silver throne. It tells me too, that on a happy day,   When some good spirit walks upon the earth,   Thy name with Alfred's, and the great of yore Gently commingling, gives tremendous birth To a loud hymn, that sounds far, far away   To where the great God lives for evermore.