Sacred England, stagnant pool, Haunt of every knave and fool: We thy humble servants pray That thou be thus for alway. Gold alone maintains thy might, Not vain justice, foolish right: Gold alone feeds fading lust Ere it falls to rot and dust. Gold with hands both white and black, Wrung from many a wretched back; We now lay before thy feet, Moral England, fat and sweet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THOUGHTS OF PHENA AT NEWS OF HER DEATH by THOMAS HARDY VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 5. NIGHT SONG AT AMALFI by SARA TEASDALE PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 72, 73, 74, 75. AWWAL, AKHIR, THAHIR, BATIN by EDWIN ARNOLD |