The Patriot Poem

 The Patriot

By Robert Browning

 

1

 It was roses , roses , all the way ,

With myrtle mixed in my path like mad

The house roofs seemed to heave and sway

 The church - spires flamed , such flags they had

A year ago on this very day .

 

2

The air broke into a must with bells ,

 The old walls rocked with the crowd and cries

 Had I said , " Good folk , mere noise repels

But give me your sun from yonder skies

They had answered , " And afterward , what else? "

3

 Alack , it was I who leaped at the sun

To give it my loving friends to keep !

Nought man could do , have I left undone

And you see my harvest , what I reap

This very day , now a year is run .

 

4

 There's nobody on the house - tops now .

Just a palsied few at the windows st;

 For the best of the sight is , all allow ,

At the Shambles ' Gate - or , better yet ,

By the very scaffold's foot , I trow ,

 

5

I go in the rain , and , more than need ,

A rope cuts both my wrists behind:

And I think , by the feel , my forehead bleeds ,

For they fling , whoever has a mind ,

Stone's at me for my year's misdeeds .

 

5

Thus I entered , and thus I go !

In triumphs , people have dropped down dead ,

Paid by the world - what dost thou owe

Me ? ' - God might question ; now instead , '

 Tis God shall repay : I am safer so .