The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
 | IV. |
|
|
SONNET X
“IF EVER, ROUSED BY SOME INVADER'S TREAD”
|
|
|
|
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
96
SONNET X
“IF EVER, ROUSED BY SOME INVADER'S TREAD”
If ever, roused by some invader's tread,
England awaketh from her centuries' sleep
And findeth with a heart-thrill strange and deep
That she must rise in earnest,—or fall dead;
If ever alien hands our harvests reap,
And our chalk roads are splashed with angry red,
And village houses riddled with fierce lead,—
While in the houses English women weep:—
England awaketh from her centuries' sleep
And findeth with a heart-thrill strange and deep
That she must rise in earnest,—or fall dead;
If ever alien hands our harvests reap,
And our chalk roads are splashed with angry red,
And village houses riddled with fierce lead,—
While in the houses English women weep:—
If ever this be so, what chance have we?
Little: if our one friend who, ages long,
Has hemmed us in with walls of billows strong
Forsakes us,—lost through our own treachery.
Little: if we have hushed the warning song
Of pathless winds, and bridged the bridgeless sea.
Little: if our one friend who, ages long,
Has hemmed us in with walls of billows strong
Forsakes us,—lost through our own treachery.
Little: if we have hushed the warning song
Of pathless winds, and bridged the bridgeless sea.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |