XCVII. ENGLAND.
Reading edition
XCVII. ENGLAND.
Thomas Bailey Aldrich.—1836-
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 the 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 fill'd, 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!
Such kings of shreds have woo'd and won her, Such crafty knaves her laurel own'd, It has become almost an honor Not to be crown'd.
Thomas Bailey Aldrich. On Popularity.