 | Sonnets and Other Poems |  |
67
A NATION'S WEALTH.
O England, thou hast many a precious dower;But of all treasures it is thine to claim,
Prize most the memory of each sainted name,
That in thy realm, in field or hall or bower
Hath wrought high deeds or utter'd words of power—
Unselfish warrior, without fear or blame—
Statesman, with sleepless watch and steadfast aim
Holding his country's helm in perilous hour—
Poet, whose heart is with us to this day
Embalm'd in song—or Priest, who by the ark
Of faith stood firm in troublous times and dark.
Call them not dead, my England! such as they
Not were, but are; within us each survives,
And lives an endless life in others' lives.
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