 | In Cornwall and Across the Sea |  |
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WAR.
What meaneth the hum of the dockyards, the knightly old music of steel?
What meaneth the hum of the city, the tramp of the well-timed heel?
What meaneth the banner of England from the stern of the mail-ship swung?
What meaneth the note of defiance with the voice of a people flung?
War.
What meaneth the hum of the city, the tramp of the well-timed heel?
What meaneth the banner of England from the stern of the mail-ship swung?
What meaneth the note of defiance with the voice of a people flung?
War.
We hide not the sorrows of warfare, the widow, the want, and the woe;
We hide not the perils of warfare, the might of a resolute foe;
But our eyes are beginning to glitter as our fathers' flashed ages ago,
When our Edwards went forth to their battles with the men of the bill and the bow.
We hide not the perils of warfare, the might of a resolute foe;
But our eyes are beginning to glitter as our fathers' flashed ages ago,
When our Edwards went forth to their battles with the men of the bill and the bow.
| In Cornwall and Across the Sea | |