15 MAY 1926, Page 10
POETRY
FROM OUT THE MIRK England, England, Call us forth From out the mirk of Word and Gain ; Reaffirm Thy Native Worth, Make again Thy Purpose plain.
That has been Thy Will ere now, From King John's hour till German might Rose up against Thy furrowed brow, But failed to put Thee to the flight.
Surely ! Fairest Land on Earth, Mother of English-speaking men, Who grants our privilege of Birth, Has right of Conquest once again.
Conquer Self for good of All— Peace declared within the State— Conquer alien moods that call On us to play The Profligate.
England, England, be but true To all that made Thee truly great ; May blooms are beckoning to you,— Uproot the Weeds within the Gate !
EDMUND ADBURGHAM.
Previous page
