Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
William Ernest Henley. 18491903844. 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, | 5 |
As the Lord were walking near, | |
Whispering terrible things and dear | |
As the Song on your bugles blown, | |
England— | |
Round the world on your bugles blown! | 10 |
Where shall the watchful sun, | |
England, my England, | |
Match the master-work you’ve done, | |
England, my own? | |
When shall he rejoice agen | 15 |
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? | 20 |
Ever the faith endures, | |
England, my England:— | |
‘Take and break us: we are yours, | |
England, my own! | |
Life is good, and joy runs high | 25 |
Between English earth and sky: | |
Death is death; but we shall die | |
To the Song on your bugles blown, | |
England— | |
To the stars on your bugles blown!’ | 30 |
They call you proud and hard, | |
England, my England: | |
You with worlds to watch and ward, | |
England, my own! | |
You whose mail’d hand keeps the keys | 35 |
Of such teeming destinies, | |
You could know nor dread nor ease | |
Were the Song on your bugles blown, | |
England, | |
Round the Pit on your bugles blown! | 40 |
Mother of Ships whose might, | |
England, my England, | |
Is the fierce old Sea’s delight, | |
England, my own, | |
Chosen daughter of the Lord, | 45 |
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient Sword, | |
There ‘s the menace of the Word | |
In the Song on your bugles blown, | |
England— | |
Out of heaven on your bugles blown! | 50 |