England

I the voice of England is a trumpet tone When that inviolate Mother wills it so: Nations may rise and fall, and tyrants go Upon their devious, darkened paths: alone England preserves her people and her throne, Her ancient freedom, her perpetual flow Of broad and brightened life; time shall not show This mighty Nation pitiful and prone. II It is the Saxon soul that speaks in her, The stanchest soul that earth has ever wrought To guide humanity in faith and light. The shivering slave has been her worshipper, And with defiant courage she has taught Red Tyranny to cringe before the Right.

Collection: 
English
George Edgar Montgomery

More from Poet

  • At Night

    The sun is sinking over hill and sea, Its red light fires a spectral line of shore; Night droops upon our half-world mistily With sombre glory and ghost-haunted lore; The stars show dim and pallid in the sky, Vague, wraith-white glimmerings of volcanic spheres, And a slim crescent of the...

  • A Dead Soldier

    He sleeps at last—a hero of his race. Dead!—and the night lies softly on his face, While the faint summer stars, like sentinels, Hover above his lonely resting-place. A soldier, yet less soldier than a man, Who gave to justice what a soldier can,— The courage of his arm, a patient heart, And the...

  • To a Child

    I look upon thy happy face— Dear child with those undarkened eyes Like glimpses of transparent skies— And dream of things which have no place In that small, golden head of thine; Things that no ten-year-old has yet Dared in his roguish wit to set To thought, or word, or rhythmic line. And it is...

  • England

    I the voice of England is a trumpet tone When that inviolate Mother wills it so: Nations may rise and fall, and tyrants go Upon their devious, darkened paths: alone England preserves her people and her throne, Her ancient freedom, her perpetual flow Of broad and brightened life; time shall not...