Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO ENGLAND, by CHARLES LEONARD MOORE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO ENGLAND, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Now england lessens on my sight
Last Line: Whate'er is brave and best.
Subject(s): England; English


Now England lessens on my sight;
The bastioned front of Wales,
Discolored and indefinite,
There like a cloud-wreath sails:
A league, and all those thronging hills
Must sink beneath the sea;
But while one touch of Memory thrills,
They yet shall stay with me.

I claim no birthright in yon sod,
Though thence my blood and name;
My sires another region trod,
Fought for another fame;
Yet a son's tear this moment wrongs
My eager watching eyes,
Land of the lordliest deeds and songs
Since Greece was great and wise!

Thou hedgerow thing that queenest the Earth,
What magic hast? -- what art?
A thousand years of work and worth
Are clustered at thy heart:
The ghosts of those that made thee free
To throng thy hearth are wont;
And as thy richest reliquary
Thou wearest thy Abbey's front!

Aye, ere my distance is complete
I see thy heroes come
And crowd yon shadowy mountain seat,
Still guardians of their home;
Thy Drake, thy Nelson, and thy Bruce
Glow out o'er dusky tides;
The rival Roses blend in truce,
And King with Roundhead rides.

And with these phantoms born to last,
A storm of music breaks;
And bards, pavilioned in the past, --
Each from his tomb awakes!
The ring and glitter of thy swords,
Thy lovers' bloom and breath,
By them transmuted into words,
Redeem the world from death.

My path is West! My heart before
Bounds o'er the dancing wave;
Yet something's left I must deplore --
A magic wild and grave:
Though Honor live and Romance dwell
By mine own streams and woods,
Yet not in spire and keep so well
Are built such lofty moods.

England, perchance our love were more
If we were matched and met
In battle squadron on the shore,
Or here on ocean set:
How were all other banners furled
If that great duel rose!
For we alone in all the world
Are worthy to be foes.

If we should fail or you should fly,
'T were but a twinned disgrace,
For both are bound to bear on high
The laurels of one race: --
No fear! new blooms shall bud above
Upon the ancient wreath,
For both can gentle be to Love,
And insolent to Death.

Land of the lion-hearted brood,
I breathe a last adieu;
To Her who reigns across the flood
My loyalty is true:
But with my service to her o'er,
Thou, England, ownest the rest,
For I must worship and adore
Whate'er is brave and best.






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