These to the glory and praise of the green land That bred my women, and that holds my dead, England, and with her the strong broods that stand Wherever her fighting lines are thrust or spread! They call us proud?—Look at our English Rose! Shedders of blood?—Where hath our own been spared? Shopkeepers?—Our accompt the high God knows. Close?—In our bounty half the world hath shared. They hate us, and they envy? Envy and hate Should drive them to the Pit’s edge?—Be it so! That race is damned which misesteems its fate; And this, in God’s good time, they all shall know, And know you too, you good green England, then—  Mother of mothering girls and governing men!

England

God

Pit’s

God’s

England

p. 51. HAWTHORN AND LAVENDER

p. 5

ENVOY

My songs were once of the sunrise:  They shouted it over the bar; First-footing the dawns, they flourished, And flamed with the morning star.

My songs are now of the sunset:  Their brows are touched with light, But their feet are lost in the shadows And wet with the dews of night.

Yet for the joy in their making Take them, O fond and true, And for his sake who made them Let them be dear to You.

p. 6PRÆLUDIUM

p. 6

Largo espressivo

In sumptuous chords, and strange, Through rich yet poignant harmonies: Subtle and strong browns, reds Magnificent with death and the pride of death, Thin, clamant greens And delicate yellows that exhaust The exquisite chromatics of decay: From ruining gardens, from reluctant woods— Dear, multitudinously reluctant woods!— And sering margents, forced 

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