A Song for England
I.
Lo! another mighty century dying
Bears to deathland many a hero's form:
Some who saw Napoleon's banners flying;
Some who faced red Alma's leaden storm.
Yet in passing towards the shadowy portal
Fleeting years with fiery tongues proclaim,
" Ages wane, but England is immortal;
Deathless through each unforgotten name. "
II.
Deathless through her children crowned and deathless,
Hearts who battled with a thousand foes
Till among star-nations watching breathless
In its lonely strength her sun arose
" Isolation? " Needless is the warning.
Force supremer isolation brings
When the wrath of England flashes, scorning
Lies of statesmen and the plots of kings.
III.
Though the leaders one by one are falling
Still the nation marches to its goal;
Still, as ever, Freedom's voice is calling;
Still it rings within the exultant soul.
Still the strife of England is not over:
Still she needs the sword-arms of her sons,
Needs, from Scottish crags to Deal and Dover,
Hands on rifles, gunners at the guns.
IV.
Still she needs, from coast to coast patrolling,
Kissing white-maned waves with stormy glee,
Cleaving tides that round the world go rolling,
Fortress-ships to range the unfortressed sea
While her dark-browed forts on cliff and highland
Guard the flower-bright gateways of her home,
Still she needs to feel that round the island
Thunder-bearing bulwarks guard the foam.
Lo! another mighty century dying
Bears to deathland many a hero's form:
Some who saw Napoleon's banners flying;
Some who faced red Alma's leaden storm.
Yet in passing towards the shadowy portal
Fleeting years with fiery tongues proclaim,
" Ages wane, but England is immortal;
Deathless through each unforgotten name. "
II.
Deathless through her children crowned and deathless,
Hearts who battled with a thousand foes
Till among star-nations watching breathless
In its lonely strength her sun arose
" Isolation? " Needless is the warning.
Force supremer isolation brings
When the wrath of England flashes, scorning
Lies of statesmen and the plots of kings.
III.
Though the leaders one by one are falling
Still the nation marches to its goal;
Still, as ever, Freedom's voice is calling;
Still it rings within the exultant soul.
Still the strife of England is not over:
Still she needs the sword-arms of her sons,
Needs, from Scottish crags to Deal and Dover,
Hands on rifles, gunners at the guns.
IV.
Still she needs, from coast to coast patrolling,
Kissing white-maned waves with stormy glee,
Cleaving tides that round the world go rolling,
Fortress-ships to range the unfortressed sea
While her dark-browed forts on cliff and highland
Guard the flower-bright gateways of her home,
Still she needs to feel that round the island
Thunder-bearing bulwarks guard the foam.
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