Classic Poem

Thou Sea of circumstance, whose waves are ages,
On whose high surf the fates of men are thrown!
Thou writing from the calm, eternal pages,
Whose letters secret unto Him alone
Who writ that scroll forever shall be known!
I deem not of thy inmost to discover,
Yet oh, forget not I am thy true lover.

Home of the Brave! deep-centred in the Ocean—
Cradle where rocked the famous bards of old,
Consummate masters of the heart's emotion,
Free, genial intellects by Heaven made bold!
My blood I should disown, and deem me cold,
If I did not revere thy matchless sons—
Of all Time's progeny the noblest ones.

What though the calm Elysium of the air
Hangs violet draperies o'er the Grecian fanes?
What though the fields of Italy are fair?
Above them England towers, with mightier gains;
Yet, tell me, are her sons bound fast in chains?
The fearful note of misery sounds so high
From her wide plains up to her clouded sky.

In woodland churches rising forest-free,
Network of threaded granite, textured fine,
And stamped with countenance of sanctity,—
With arches waving like the pointed pine,
Where spires and cones and rugged barks entwine,—
Their cloisters shadowy in the light of noon,
Their tall, dim steeples misty in the moon;

Thy surplice—shall it hide a purse of gold?
The smooth and roted sermon doff to Fame?
Extinguished every aspiration bold,
While only sounds some formal, empty name?
Shall her old churches make proud England tame?
Throw ashes in those hearts where once coursed blood,
And blind those streaming eyes from sight of good?

England!—the name hath bulwarks in the sound,
And bids her people own the State again;
Bids them to dispossess their native ground
From out the hands of titled noblemen;
Then shall the scholar freely wield his pen,
And shepherds dwell where lords keep castle now,
And peasants cut the overhanging bough.

Fold not thy brawny arms as though thy toil
Was done, nor take thy drowsy path toward sleep!
There never will be leisure on thy soil,
There never will be idless on thy steep;
So long as thou sailst the unsounded deep,
New conquests shall be thine, new heritage,
Such as the world's whole wonder must engage.