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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420669" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Conquest Of Finland</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">ACROSS the frozen marshes<br>The winds of autumn blow,<br>And the fen-lands of the Wetter<br>Are white with early snow.<br>But where the low, gray headlands<br>Look o'er the Baltic brine,<br>A bark is sailing in the track<br>Of England's battle-line.<br>No wares hath she to barter<br>For Bothnia's fish and grain;<br>She saileth not for pleasure,<br>She saileth not for gain.<br>But still by isle or mainland<br>She drops her, anchor down,<br>Where'er the British cannon<br>Rained fire on tower and town.<br>Outspake the ancient Amtman,<br>At the gate of Helsingfors:<br>'Why comes this ship a-spying<br>In the track of England's wars?'<br>'God bless her,' said the coast-guard, —<br>'God bless the ship, I say.<br>The holy angels trim the sails<br>That speed her on her way!<br>'Where'er she drops her anchor,<br>The peasant's heart is glad;<br>Where'er she spreads her parting sail,<br>The peasant's heart is sad.<br>'Each wasted town and hamlet<br>She visits to restore;<br>To roof the shattered cabin,<br>And feed the starving poor.<br>' The sunken boats of fishers,<br>The foraged beeves and grain,<br>The spoil of flake and storehouse,<br>The good ship brings again.<br>'And so to Finland's sorrow<br>The sweet amend is made,<br>As if the healing hand of Christ<br>Upon her wounds were laid!'<br>Then said the gray old Amtman,<br>'The will of God be done!<br>The battle lost by England's hate,<br>By England's love is won!<br>'We braved the iron tempest<br>That thundered on our shore;<br>But when did kindness fail to find<br>The key to Finland's door?<br>'No more from Aland's ramparts<br>Shall warning signal come,<br>Nor startled Sweaborg hear again<br>The roll of midnight drum.<br>'Beside our fierce Black Eagle<br>The Dove of Peace shall rest;<br>And in the mouths of cannon<br>The sea-bird make her nest.<br>'For Finland, looking seaward,<br>No coming foe shall scan;<br>And the holy bells of Abo<br>Shall ring, 'Good-will to man!'<br>'Then row thy boat, O fisher!<br>In peace on lake and bay;<br>And thou, young maiden, dance again<br>Around the poles of May!<br>'Sit down, old men, together,<br>Old wives, in quiet spin;<br>Henceforth the Anglo-Saxon<br>Is the brother of the Finn!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Greenleaf+Whittier">John Greenleaf Whittier</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420669" data-title="The Conquest Of Finland de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="ACROSS the frozen marshes
The winds of autumn blow,
And the fen-lands of the Wetter
Are white with early snow.
But where the low, gray headlands
Look o'er the Baltic brine,
A bark is sailing in the track
Of England's battle-line.
No wares hath she..."></div>
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