POETRY.
ENGLAND'S DEAD.
Mho peventh of December was a special day of celebration throughout the United States of England's part in the war, and of commemoration of her heroic dead. It may interest our readers to know that the author of these lines is Mr. Puller of Philadelphia, a member of the staff of the Public Ledger, and one of America's most distinguished publicists.] WHAT can be said in praise of thee, 0 England, Empress of the Sea,
That has been left unsaid By thy remembered dead ?
At the first blast of war they spoke, When the swift lightnings round them broke, And their heroic word Through all the world was heard.
Yea, with such high resolve they went, In their great cause so confident— Their love a sacred flame, Burning before thy name !
Nor in the grave can they forget; From alien skies they own thee yet, And every flower-strewn mound For them is English ground.
The bullfinch and the linnet sing Their requiems each recurring spring, And at the sunset's hush They hear the lyric -thrush.
Oh, it were sweet in truth to stay At home through years of peace, and say.
Now is our England's shore Freed from the wreck of war !
Yet sweeter to have sought the fate That left their kin inviolate!
Were they to choose again, They would not shirk the pain.
Ah, no! for England thus to fall Was the supreme reward of all. And we across the sea, Who owe so much to thee, Pay equal tears to ours and thine, Who, dying, conquered in the sign They followed to the far Clear light of Freedom's star EDWARD POLLEE.
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