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! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS VISION by HAYDEN CARRUTH PUSSY-WILLOW TIME by ROBERT FROST COSMOPOLITE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON RHYTHM by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A FLORIDA SUNDAY by SIDNEY LANIER LINES ON CARMEN SYLVA by EMMA LAZARUS |