English Poetry III: From Tennyson to Whitman.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14. |
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| 742. England, My England |
| | | William Ernest Henley (1849–1903) |
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| WHAT have I done for you, | |
| England, my England? | |
| What is there I would not do, | |
| England, my own? | |
| With your glorious eyes austere, | 5 |
| As the Lord were walking near, | |
| Whispering terrible things and dear | |
| As the Song on your bugles blown, | |
| England— | |
| Round the world on your bugles blown! | 10 |
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| Where shall the watchful sun, | |
| England, my England, | |
| Match the master-work you’ve done, | |
| England, my own? | |
| When shall he rejoice agen | 15 |
| Such a breed of mighty men | |
| As come forward, one to ten, | |
| To the Song on your bugles blown, | |
| England— | |
| Down the years on your bugles blown? | 20 |
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| Ever the faith endures, | |
| England, my England:— | |
| ‘Take and break us: we are yours, | |
| England, my own! | |
| Life is good, and joy runs high | 25 |
| Between English earth and sky: | |
| Death is death; but we shall die | |
| To the Song of your bugles blown, | |
| England— | |
| To the stars on your bugles blown!’ | 30 |
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| They call you proud and hard, | |
| England, my England: | |
| You with worlds to watch and ward, | |
| England, my own! | |
| You whose mail’d hand keeps the keys | 35 |
| Of such teeming destinies, | |
| You could know nor dread nor ease | |
| Were the Song on your bugles blown, | |
| England— | |
| Round the Pit on your bugles blown! | 40 |
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| Mother of Ships whose might, | |
| England, my England, | |
| Is the fierce old Sea’s delight, | |
| England, my own, | |
| Chosen daughter of the Lord, | 45 |
| Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient Sword, | |
| There’s the menace of the Word | |
| In the Song on your bugles blown, | |
| England— | |
| Out of heaven on your bugles blown! | 50 |
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