"For Your Motherland"

"MY SON, GO AND FIGHT FOR YOUR MOTHERLAND!"

England's your Mother! Let your life acclaim Her precious heart's blood flowing in your heart; Take ye the thunder of her solemn name Upon your lips with reverence; play your part By word and deed To shield and speed The far-flung splendour of her ancient fame. England's your Mother! Shall not you, her child, Quicken the everlasting fires that glow Upon your birthright's altar? England smiled Beside your cradle, trusting you to show, With manhood's might, The undying light That points the road her free-born spirits go. England's your Mother! Man, forget it not Wherever on the wide-wayed earth your fate Calls you to labour; whatsoe'er your lot In service, or in power, in stress or state— Whate'er betide, With humble pride, Remember! By your Mother you are great. England's your Mother! What though dark the day Above the storm-swept frontier that you tread? Her vanished children throng the glorious way; A myriad legions of her living dead Those starry trains That shared your pains Shall set their crown of light upon your head. England's your Mother! When the race is run And you are called to leave your life and die, Small matter what is lost, so this be won: An after-glow of blessed memory, Gracious and pure, In witness sure "England was this man's Mother: he, her son."

EDEN PHILLPOTTS.