Jan Amos Komenský

All hail to thee, Komenský, though thy name Must not be honored where thy cradle stood, Nor happy troops of children sing thy fame, The little ones you loved and understood. Yes, all the world can honor thee, but those For whom you strove, your brothers must be still— Forbidden by a minister, they rose, To do thee honor, ’gainst a tyrant’s will.

Prague like a bride arrayed herself with flags, And windows blazed, and music played for thee, And e’en the beggars put away their rags, And students dared to dream that they were free. All hail to thee, Komenský! though thy fate Was but an exile’s—home you never had— Poor and a wanderer, honor came too late To minister to one so old and sad. Thine was the Christian’s faith, the dauntless heart, That in the darkest night still dreams of dawn; Thine was the effort, thine the glorious part, To help the children in a world forlorn. Thy voice was heard in every noble cause, And Europe listened to Moravia’s son. In many lands you helped to make the laws, For schools, and scholars, till thy days were done.

Thine was the patriot’s zeal, thy native tongue To make more rich, by works that shall not die, And far away in foreign lands you sung Your burning words, that ended with a sigh. All hail to thee, Komenský! though thy bones Will never rest within thy land of birth. In Naarden is a grave that in all zones Will be remembered by the learned of earth.

All hail to thee, Komenský! tyrant’s might Can never pluck the laurels from thy brow, Nor will thy brothers let oblivion’s night Enshroud the grave where thou art lying now. Thou wert an exile but thy grave shall be Crowned with a laurel wreath from thy dear land, While sympathetic nations mourn to see The tyranny that crushes thy loved land.

All hail to thee, Komenský! homeless here, Thou now hast found a home in realms more fair. An orphan now a Father wipes the tear And lays the conqueror’s crown upon thy hair. What matters if thou sleep in alien soil— Thy grave is honored, be it where it will. Dishonor only rests on those who toil To bind their fellowmen against their will.