Sacred and profane love and other poems | ||
62
WARDENS OF THE WAVE
I
Not to exult in braggart veinOver a gallant foe,
Or boast of triumphs on the main,
The Gods alone bestow;
Vainglorious clarion, clamorous drum,
For which the vulgar crave,
Not these, not any such, become
The Wardens of the Wave.
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II
No, but when slumbering war-dogs wake,To the last gasp of breath
Face combat for one's Country's sake,
With male disdain of death;
For this did Nelson live and die,
Far from his Land and home,
Making his roof-tree of the sky,
His pillow on the foam.
III
And if our race to-day recallHis last triumphant doom,
Place wreaths on his unfading pall,
And flowers upon his tomb,
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Aggression's lust in awe,
And with dominion of the deep
Guard Freedom, Peace, and Law.
IV
And not alone upon the wavesThat sentinel our shore,
Service that disciplines, not enslaves,
Should rule us, as of yore;
So that our Island Citadel
May tranquilly respond
With the calm signal, “All is well,”
To every Sea Beyond.
Sacred and profane love and other poems | ||