George Edward Woodberry

  • I.
    england, I stand on thy imperial ground
      Not all a stranger; as thy bugles blow,
      I feel within my blood old battles flow,—
    The blood whose ancient founts are in thee found
    Still surging dark against the Christian bound
      While Islam presses;...

  • When love in the faint heart trembles,
      And the eyes with tears are wet,
    Oh, tell me what resembles
      Thee, young Regret?
    Violets with dewdrops drooping;
      Lilies o’erfull of gold,
    Roses in June rains stooping,
      That weep for the cold,...

  • Sweet names, the rosary of my evening prayer,
    Told on my lips like kisses of good-night
    To friends who go a little from my sight,
    And some through distant years shine clear and fair!—
    So this dear burden that I daily bear
    Mighty God taketh, and doth loose...

  • I
    england, i stand on thy imperial ground,
    Not all a stranger; as thy bugles blow,
    I feel within my blood old battles flow,—
    The blood whose ancient founts in thee are found.
    Still surging dark against the Christian bound
    Wide Islam presses; well...

  • Mother of nations, of them eldest we,
    Well is it found, and happy for the state,
    When that which makes men proud first makest them great,
    And such our fortune is who sprang from thee,
    And brought to this new land from over sea
    The faith that can with every...

  • Was this his face, and these the finding eyes
    That plucked a new world from the rolling seas?
    Who, serving Christ, whom most he sought to please,
    Willed his one thought until he saw arise
    Man’s other home and earthly paradise—
    His early vision, when with...

  • O destined Land, unto thy citadel,
    What founding fates even now doth peace compel,
    That through the world thy name is sweet to tell!
    O thronëd Freedom, unto thee is brought
      Empire; nor falsehood nor blood-payment asked;
    Who never through deceit thy ends...

  • When first I SAW HER
    WHEN first I saw her, at the stroke
    The heart of nature in me spoke;
    The very landscape smiled more sweet,
    Lit by her eyes, pressed by her feet;
    She made the stars of heaven more bright
    By sleeping under them at night;
    ...