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ENGLISH FLOWERS AND SEAS.
In the land of breezy cliff-tops and blown grasses,
O Christ, art thou?
Where the summer-wind through crimson clover passes,
Do blossoms bow?
O Christ, art thou?
Where the summer-wind through crimson clover passes,
Do blossoms bow?
Do the tender roses in the green June hedges
Before thee burn?
Do the rushes tall along our river-edges
To thy face turn?
Before thee burn?
Do the rushes tall along our river-edges
To thy face turn?
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Do the lilies white their fragrant stems before thee,
O Christ-king, bend?
Do English woods and English hills adore thee
And greeting send?
O Christ-king, bend?
Do English woods and English hills adore thee
And greeting send?
Is English honeysuckle glad to ring thee,
Thy fair brown head?
Do watchful hands of English women bring thee
Soft roses red?
Thy fair brown head?
Do watchful hands of English women bring thee
Soft roses red?
Do English maidens open hearts and bosoms
For thee to see?
Art thou the lord who gathereth English blossoms
From plant and tree?
For thee to see?
Art thou the lord who gathereth English blossoms
From plant and tree?
Are English women's spirits tearful, tender,
When thou art near?
Trembling do they unveil for thee their splendour
With woman's fear?
When thou art near?
Trembling do they unveil for thee their splendour
With woman's fear?
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Art thou the lord of many a soft heart beating
With love of thee?
Art thou the prince of wide waste waves retreating.
Our white fierce sea?
With love of thee?
Art thou the prince of wide waste waves retreating.
Our white fierce sea?
Art thou the ruler of the autumn glory
Of dell and vale?
Do women, woods, and golden leaves, and hoary
Waves, shout “All-hail”?
Of dell and vale?
Do women, woods, and golden leaves, and hoary
Waves, shout “All-hail”?
Nay: Beauty's self upon our rocky ledges
Is sole sweet queen;
She, rose of roses in our rose-sweet hedges,
Shines in the green.
Is sole sweet queen;
She, rose of roses in our rose-sweet hedges,
Shines in the green.
She, 'mid the wavelets white a woman whiter,
Rises to stand
Upon our storm-swept cliffs a sweet star brighter
Than thy bright hand.
Rises to stand
Upon our storm-swept cliffs a sweet star brighter
Than thy bright hand.
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Our blossoms and our women bend before her,
Her face they seek:
Our mountain-winds and moutain-mists adore her;
For her they speak.
Her face they seek:
Our mountain-winds and moutain-mists adore her;
For her they speak.
Our maidens not for thee O Christ are tender,—
Oh, not for thee:
But English eyes their unapproached white splendour
Sometimes may see.
Oh, not for thee:
But English eyes their unapproached white splendour
Sometimes may see.
The eternal seas on iron shore-sides breaking
For our ears sound:
The summer winds the moon-lit aspens shaking
Love Northern ground.
For our ears sound:
The summer winds the moon-lit aspens shaking
Love Northern ground.
The courser-waves along the gold sands charging
Not in thy name
Spread wide white manes along the yellow margin
Of beach they claim.
Not in thy name
Spread wide white manes along the yellow margin
Of beach they claim.
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Yea, not for thee a maiden's rose-like passion
Bloomed in the North:
Not towards thy lips in mystical low fashion
Words trembled forth.
Bloomed in the North:
Not towards thy lips in mystical low fashion
Words trembled forth.
Not for all wreaths wherewith the lands imbower thee,
Would I displace
My one white rose,—nor hand, O perfect flower, thee
To Christ's embrace.
Would I displace
My one white rose,—nor hand, O perfect flower, thee
To Christ's embrace.
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