England of Shakespeare, Shelley, Milton, Keats, Burns, Byron, Wordsworth,—hath thine head grown grey, And are the former glories passed away? Is the heart tired that 'neath thine armour beats? As year by year with speedy wing retreats, Doth thy strength dwindle slowly and decay? While yet the world basks in the golden day Is it mist of night that round about thee fleets?— Rise thou, O England! Let thy great limbs sleep No longer. Burn upon us with those eyes That blenched not at Trafalgar's blood-red skies,— Nor Waterloo,—nor Alma's thundering steep:— Let not this crowd of mockers round thee leap, While passionless thy giant sword-arm lies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I AM BORNE ONWARD by SARA TEASDALE A GOODNIGHT by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS ARIZONA POEMS: 4. THE WINDMILLS by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER FIFTY YEARS (1863-1913) by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE RAINY SUMMER by ALICE MEYNELL FIDELIA ARGUING WITH HER SELF ON THE DIFFICULTY FINDING TRUE RELIGION by JANE BARKER FRIENDSHIP'S BLACK AND WHITE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |