I cannot know what country owns thee now, <br />With France's forest lilies on thy brow. <br />When England knew thee thou wert passing fair; <br />I never knew a foreign face so rare. <br />The world of waters rolls and rushes bye, <br />Nor lets me wander where thy vallies lie. <br />But surely France must be a pleasant place <br />That greets the stranger with so fair a face; <br />The English maiden blushes down the dance, <br />But few can equal the fair maid of France. <br />I saw thee lovely and I wished thee mine, <br />And the last song I ever wrote is thine. <br /> <br />Thy country's honour on thy face attends; <br />Men may be foes but beauty makes us friends.<br /><br />John Clare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-beautiful-stranger/
