1899 <br /> <br />Who would trust England, let him lift his eyes <br />To Nelson, columned o'er Trafalgar Square, <br />Her hieroglyph of duty, written where <br />The roar of traffic hushes to the skies; <br />Or mark, while Paul's vast shadow softly lies <br />On Gordon's statued sleep, how praise and prayer <br />Flush through the frank young faces clustering there <br />To con that kindred rune of sacrifice. <br />O England, no bland cloud-ship in the blue, <br />But rough oak plunging on o'er perilous jars <br />Of reef and ice, our faith will follow you <br />The more for tempest roar that strains your spars <br />And splits your canvas, be your helm but true, <br />Your courses shapen by the eternal stars. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />1900 <br /> <br />The nightmare melts at last, and London wakes <br />To her old habit of victorious ease. <br />More men, and more, and more for over-seas, <br />More guns until the giant hammer breaks <br />That patriot folk whom even God forsakes. <br />Shall not Great England work her will on these, <br />The foolish little nations, and appease <br />An angry shame that in her memory aches? <br />But far beyond the fierce-contested flood, <br />The cannon-planted pass, the shell-torn town, <br />The last wild carnival of fire and blood, <br />Beware, beware that dim and awful Shade, <br />Armored with Milton's sword and Cromwell's frown, <br />Affronted Freedom, of her own betrayed!<br /><br />Katharine Lee Bates<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/america-to-england/
