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. On Reading William Watson's Sonnet Entitled The Purple East
2. Sestet
3. No Songs in Winter
4. Identity
5. L'Eau Dormante

Edith Nesbit England ("Shoulders of upland brown laid dark to the sunset's bosom")

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