Rendition of a timid Patriot!

I took a deep breath, and
Pondered about certain sheep, black or white
For a moment, I thought of William Blake, and
How he did professed the sheep, or the Lamb, and
The obvious Innocence and the evident Christ!

The subsequent moment,
I was there in the ridges, hiding my skin
Because, I was afraid
Of cultivation they ploughed with spade and a rough mallet.

While counting the sprouts of freedom
Someone in the bush, next to me, hushed:
"Here lies the spirits of silent soldiers, and you crouched;
Rise and look, these blood streams to the plain, and
The present, past and future; all burnt in the trail
So rise, and rear many more lambs, if not now
Wolves will howl in daylight and weeping widows will curse endless nights!"

I sunk deeper, weak in the knees, and
Blamed the heart that nibbled in harmony, and
I know I am still a timid patriot, hiding in the ridges
But the rising inferno, it also burns my plight.