MILTON! I think thy spirit hath passed away From these white cliffs, and high-embattled towers; This gorgeous fiery-coloured world of ours Seems fallen into ashes dull and grey, And the age changed unto a mimic play Wherein we waste our else too-crowded hours: For all our pomp and pageantry and powers We are but fit to delve the common clay, Seeing this little isle on which we stand, This England, this sea-lion of the sea, By ignorant demagogues is held in fee, Who love her not: Dear God! is this the land Which bare a triple empire in her hand When Cromwell spake the word Democracy! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 10 by EZRA POUND THE TREE OF SONG by SARA TEASDALE PENITENTIAL PSALM: 6. DOMINE NE IN FURORE by THOMAS WYATT THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE MEMORIAL DAY by WILLIAM E. BROOKS SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 43 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 6 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |