Poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich

England

While men pay reverence to mighty things,
They must revere thee, thou blue-cinctured isle
Of England—not to-day, but this long while
In front of nations, Mother of great kings,
Soldiers, and poets. Round thee the sea flings
His steel-bright arm, and shields thee from the guile
And hurt of France. Secure, with august smile,
Thou sittest, and the East its tribute brings.
Some say thy old-time power is on the wane,
Thy moon of grandeur, filled, contracts at length—
They see it darkening down from less to less.
Let but a hostile hand make threat again,
And they shall see thee in thy ancient strength,
Each iron sinew quivering, lioness!

1. Song from the Persian
2. At the Funeral of a Minor Poet
3. Latakia
4. Sestet
5. To Hafiz

Henry Newbolt England ("Praise thou with praise unending")

Print

1123 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version