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A SONG OF THE ENGLISH

There's never an ebb goes seaward now
But drops our dead on the sand—
But slinks our dead on the sands forlore,
From the Ducies to the Swin.

If blood be the price of admiralty,
If blood be the price of admiralty,

Lord God, we ha' paid it in!

We must feed our sea for a thousand years,
For that is our doom and pride,

As it was when they sailed with the Golden Hind,
Or the wreck that struck last tide-

Or the wreck that lies on the spouting reef
Where the ghastly blue-lights flare.

If blood be the price of admiralty,
If blood be the price of admiralty,
If blood be the price of admiralty,
Lord God, we ha' bought it fair!

THE DEEP-SEA CABLES

The wrecks dissolve above us; their dust drops down from afar

Down to the dark, to the utter dark, where the blind

white sea-snakes are.

There is no sound, no echo of sound, in the deserts of the deep,

Or the great gray level plains of ooze where the shellburred cables creep.

Here in the womb of the world-here on the tie-ribs

of earth

Words, and the words of men, flicker and flutter and beat

Warning, sorrow and gain, salutation and mirth— For a Power troubles the Still that has neither voice nor feet.

They have wakened the timeless Things; they have killed their father Time;

Joining hands in the gloom, a league from the last of the sun.

Hush! Men talk to-day o'er the waste of the ultimate slime,

And a new Word runs between: whispering, "Let us be one!"

THE SONG OF THE SONS

One from the ends of the earth-gifts at an open doorTreason has much, but we, Mother, thy sons have more! From the whine of a dying man, from the snarl of a wolf-pack freed,

Turn, and the world is thine. Mother, be proud of thy seed!

Count, are we feeble or few? Hear, is our speech so rude?

Look, are we poor in the land? Judge, are we men of The Blood?

A SONG OF THE ENGLISH

Those that have stayed at thy knees, Mother, go them in

We that were bred overseas wait and would speak with our kin.

call

Not in the dark do we fight-haggle and flout and gibe;

Selling our love for a price, loaning our hearts for a bribe.

Gifts have we only to-day-Love without promise or fee

Hear, for thy children speak, from the uttermost parts of the sea!

THE SONG OF THE CITIES

BOMBAY

Royal and Dower-royal, I the Queen

Fronting thy richest sea with richer handsA thousand mills roar through me where I glean All races from all lands.

CALCUTTA

Me the Sea-captain loved, the River built,
Wealth sought and Kings adventured life to
hold.

Hail, England! I am Asia-Power on silt,
Death in my hands, but Gold!

MADRAS

Clive kissed me on the mouth and eyes and brow, Wonderful kisses, so that I became

Crowned above Queens-a withered beldame now, Brooding on ancient fame.

Hail, Mother!

RANGOON

Do they call me rich in trade? Little care I, but hear the shorn priest drone, And watch my silk-clad lovers, man by maid, Laugh 'neath my Shwe Dagon.

Hail, Mother!

SINGAPORE

East and West must seek my aid

Ere the spent gear may dare the ports afar. The second doorway of the wide world's trade Is mine to loose or bar.

Hail, Mother!

HONG-KONG

Hold me fast; my Praya sleeps

Under innumerable keels to-day.

Yet guard (and landward), or to-morrow sweeps Thy war-ships down the bay!

HALIFAX

Into the mist my guardian prows put forth,
Behind the mist my virgin ramparts lie,
The Warden of the Honour of the North,
Sleepless and veiled am I

A SONG OF THE ENGLISH

QUEBEC AND MONTREAL

Peace is our portion. Yet a whisper rose,
Foolish and causeless, half in jest, half hate.
Now wake we and remember mighty blows,
And, fearing no man, wait!

VICTORIA

From East to West the circling word has passed,
Till West is East beside our land-locked blue;
From East to West the tested chain holds fast,
The well-forged link rings true!

CAPE TOWN

Hail! Snatched and bartered oft from hand to hand,
I dream my dream, by rock and heath and pine,
Of Empire to the northward. Ay, one land
From Lion's Head to Line!

Greeting!

MELBOURNE

Nor fear nor favour won us place,

Got between greed of gold and dread of drouth, Loud-voiced and reckless as the wild tide-race That whips our harbour-mouth!

SYDNEY

Greeting! My birth-stain have I turned to good; Forcing strong wills perverse to steadfastness:

The first flush of the tropics in my blood,

And at my feet Success!

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