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By that dull instinct of the mind,
Which leads aright the helpless blind,
I struggled onward, till the dawn
Across the eastern clouds had drawn
A narrow line of watery gray;
And full before my vision lay
The great dome's gaunt and naked bones
Beneath whose crown the nation thrones
Her queenly person. On I stole,
With hanging head and abject soul,
Across the high embattled ridge,
Data Sources
- Public Domain: Wikisource (en.wikisource.org) - Free library of public domain texts
- Public Domain: Project Gutenberg (gutenberg.org) - 70,000+ free e-books
- CC0 Original: Original creations by opencode AI - Released under CC0 dedication