Mixed Verse England, My England.

Free Lance, Volume IV, Issue 167, 12 September 1903, Page 22

Mixed Verse England, My England.

What have I done for you, England, my England? What is there I would not do, England, my own ? With your glorious eyes austere, As the Lord were walking near, Whispering terrible things 1 and dear As the Song on your bugles blown, England — Round the world on your bugles blown! Where shall the -watchful Sun, England, my England, Match the master-work you've done, England, my own? When shall he rejoice agen, Such a breed of mighty men As come forward, one to ten, To the Song on your bugles blown, England — Down the years on your bugles blown! Ever the faith endures England, mv England Take and break us ; we are yours, England, my own ' Life is good, and joy runs high Between English eairth and sky , Death is death, but «c shall die To the Song on your bugles blown, England — To the stars on your bugles blown! They call you proud and hard, England, my England • You with worlds to watch and ward, England, my own! You whose mailed hand keeps the keys Of such teeming destinies, You could know nor dread nor ease Were the Song on your bugles blown, Eneland — Round the Pit on your bugles blown! Mother of ships whose might, England, my England, Is the fierce old Sea's delight, England, my own. Chosen dauc-hter of the Lord. fiDouse-in-Otoief of the ancient sword. There's the menace of the Word In the Sone on your bugles blown, England —• Out of heaven on your busies blown!

—The late W. E. Henley.