Labour, and love, and strife, and mirth, They gave their part in this goodly Earth— p. 103Blow, you bugles of England, blow!— That her Name as a sun among stars might glow, Till the dusk of Time, with honour and worth: That, stung by the lust and the pain of battle, The One Race ever might starkly spread, And the One Flag eagle it overhead! In a rapture of wrath and faith and pride, Thus they felt it, and thus they died; So to the Maker of homes, to the Giver of bread, For whose dear sake their triumphing souls they shed, Blow, you bugles of England, blow, Though you break the heart of her beaten foe, Glory and praise to the everlasting Mother, Glory and peace to her lovely and faithful dead!

p. 103

England

England

p. 104IN MEMORIAM REGINAE DILECTISSIMAE VICTORIAE

p. 104

(May 24, 1819—January 22, 1901)

Sceptre and orb and crown, High ensigns of a sovranty containing The beauty and strength and state of half a World, Pass from her, and she fades Into the old, inviolable peace.

I

She had been ours so long She seemed a piece of England:  spirit and blood And message England’s self, Home-coloured, England in look and deed and dream; Like the rich meadows and woods, the serene rivers, And sea-charmed cliffs and beaches, that still bring p. 105A rush of tender pride to the heart That beats in England’s airs to England’s ends: August, familiar, irremovable, Like the good stars that shine In the good skies that only England knows: So that we held it sure God’s aim, God’s will, God’s way, When Empire from her footstool, realm on realm, Spread, even as from her notable womb Sprang line on line of Kings; For she was England—England and our Queen.

England

England’s

England

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