From Clee to heaven the beacon burns, <br />The shires have seen it plain, <br />From north and south the sign returns <br />And beacons burn again. <br /> <br />Look left, look right, the hills are bright, <br />The dales are light between, <br />Because 'tis fifty years to-night <br />That God has saved the Queen. <br /> <br />Now, when the flame they watch not towers <br />About the soil they trod, <br />Lads, we'll remember friends of ours <br />Who shared the work with God. <br /> <br />To skies that knit their heartstrings right, <br />To fields that bred them brave, <br />The saviours come not home to-night: <br />Themselves they could not save. <br /> <br />It dawns in Asia, tombstones show <br />And Shropshire names are read; <br />And the Nile spills his overflow <br />Beside the Severn's dead. <br /> <br />We pledge in peace by farm and town <br />The Queen they served in war, <br />And fire the beacons up and down <br />The land they perished for. <br /> <br />"God save the Queen" we living sing, <br />From height to height 'tis heard; <br />And with the rest your voices ring, <br />Lads of the Fifty-third. <br /> <br />Oh, God will save her, fear you not: <br />Be you the men you've been, <br />Get you the sons your fathers got, <br />And God will save the Queen.<br /><br />Alfred Edward Housman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/1887/
