Classic Poem

I.

While in England, here enisled in sweetness,
Year by year the girl-soft spirit of Spring
Weaves her primrose-crown to pure completeness,
Mixing silver stars the wood-nymphs bring;
While o'er daisied vale and cowslipped hollow
Year by year the white-fleeced clouds float by,
There are those who seeking for Apollo
Seek in vain, and deem that song must die.

II.

There are those who deem the land grows olden;
That the fields War's footsteps never trod,
Blossom-gilded, wait in vain the golden
Footprint of a more triumphant god
There are those who, rancorous grown and jealous,
Ever-envious, mocking from afar,
Longing loud to curse us, haste to tell us
How our sun hath dwindled to a star!

III.

Win a world-wide empire — overstep it
By a yard, and surely thou shalt fall,
Aged as in a moment, changed, decrepit,
Ready sport, apt stalking-horse for all!
So the hostile thousands clamour, burning,
While their myriad dogs' tongues drip with foam,
Soon to see oblivion's cataracts spurning
England to the depths that buried Rome.