 | English Roses |  |
PRELUDE.
Englishwoman with the gray blue eyes,
Like a sunburst in our blue gray skies
Breaking through the misty dome;
Tried by flame in Indian shambles,
Proved in iron Arctic frost;
But however torn and tost,
Worthy of your country's great preambles
And in every place at home.
Others wear more dazzling charms,
You are thorny like your native brambles;
But you have the warm wide mother's arms,
Unto which all children come.
Like a sunburst in our blue gray skies
Breaking through the misty dome;
Tried by flame in Indian shambles,
Proved in iron Arctic frost;
But however torn and tost,
Worthy of your country's great preambles
And in every place at home.
Others wear more dazzling charms,
You are thorny like your native brambles;
But you have the warm wide mother's arms,
Unto which all children come.
Englishwoman, with the pure sweet eyes
Full of purpose and proud mysteries,
God has made no truer thing;
In the teeth of shipwreck's ordeal tested,
And by earthquake's awful shock
Weighed and found of granite rock,
With the grandeur of your race invested
And with what enrobes a king.
But accessible and soft in all
Modest ways and ever honey-breasted
To the sufferer's feeblest call,
With divine compassioning.
Full of purpose and proud mysteries,
God has made no truer thing;
In the teeth of shipwreck's ordeal tested,
And by earthquake's awful shock
Weighed and found of granite rock,
With the grandeur of your race invested
And with what enrobes a king.
But accessible and soft in all
Modest ways and ever honey-breasted
To the sufferer's feeblest call,
With divine compassioning.
Englishwoman, with the grave clear eyes,
Wherein light of each good feeling lies,
As its lustre on the star;
Final work and flower of the Creator,
Blooming still more sure and bright
In the gardens of the night
And upon the tomb's dim dreadful crater,
Or through sorrow's blur and scar.
Ah, we know and trust thy dainty strength,
Over flood and fire arising greater
Till it guides us into port at length,
Though astray we be afar.
Wherein light of each good feeling lies,
As its lustre on the star;
Final work and flower of the Creator,
Blooming still more sure and bright
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And upon the tomb's dim dreadful crater,
Or through sorrow's blur and scar.
Ah, we know and trust thy dainty strength,
Over flood and fire arising greater
Till it guides us into port at length,
Though astray we be afar.
Englishwoman, with the wondrous eyes
Portals of unknown immensities,
Leading us to heaven and home;
Time can show no better force for shaping
Than the cunning of thy hand
Made to conquer and command,
Which redecks the earth with finer draping
And illumes the sky's dark dome.
Rule us still, for ever crowned and coy,
With thy beauty which is the escaping
Of the glory in that blessed joy,
Unto which we all would come.
Portals of unknown immensities,
Leading us to heaven and home;
Time can show no better force for shaping
Than the cunning of thy hand
Made to conquer and command,
Which redecks the earth with finer draping
And illumes the sky's dark dome.
Rule us still, for ever crowned and coy,
With thy beauty which is the escaping
Of the glory in that blessed joy,
Unto which we all would come.
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