 | English Roses |  |
THE FLAG OF ENGLAND.
What is the flag of England? Rise, from forgotten graves
And witness to its grandeur, enfranchised souls and slaves.
The shadow of its glory, the shelter of its roof
Takes the wide world beneath it, nor leaveth one aloof.
Its hospitable greatness, its universal breast
Is open to the exile and gives all peoples rest.
Force cannot live without it, fear does not dwell within,
And from its mighty presence the purer times begin.
O awful and imperial it lifts the lowly head,
And falls in dew and sunshine 'twixt dying hopes and dead.
It blazes o'er the vanward in every noble strife,
And has on earth no frontiers but liberty and life.
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The shadow of its glory, the shelter of its roof
Takes the wide world beneath it, nor leaveth one aloof.
Its hospitable greatness, its universal breast
Is open to the exile and gives all peoples rest.
Force cannot live without it, fear does not dwell within,
And from its mighty presence the purer times begin.
O awful and imperial it lifts the lowly head,
And falls in dew and sunshine 'twixt dying hopes and dead.
It blazes o'er the vanward in every noble strife,
And has on earth no frontiers but liberty and life.
Where is the flag of England? Ask of the winds, that blow
On sand like burning lava and fields of Arctic snow;
Ask of the waves that thunder round coral isles, and beat
For ever at the portals of death's ice-armed seat.
And O when suns are setting, or foemen at the gate
Of weakness knock in terror, it rises above fate.
The shield of its protection confronts each iron shock,
And rolls the flood of evil back like a refuge rock.
As in a sacred fortress, it gathers to its side
The weary and the wounded, ere washed beneath the tide.
It is the rallying centre on desert coast or crag,
And when all light has faded shines on the English flag.
On sand like burning lava and fields of Arctic snow;
Ask of the waves that thunder round coral isles, and beat
For ever at the portals of death's ice-armed seat.
And O when suns are setting, or foemen at the gate
Of weakness knock in terror, it rises above fate.
The shield of its protection confronts each iron shock,
And rolls the flood of evil back like a refuge rock.
As in a sacred fortress, it gathers to its side
The weary and the wounded, ere washed beneath the tide.
It is the rallying centre on desert coast or crag,
And when all light has faded shines on the English flag.
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