Poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich / [by Thomas Bailey Aldrich] [electronic text]

XIV.
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 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 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!