A Spring Harvest/Sonnet to the British Navy
SONNET TO THE BRITISH ARMY
Lest force aspire to brand an alien name Upon the immortal empire of the free:Lest fire and sword and slaughter strive to tame This isle, was ne'er so tamed, and ne'er shall be,Ye guard the ocean barrier, undismayed 'Midst hidden perils for a brave man's fears,In iron craft that many smiths have made With peaceful labour in the old, dead years.In a small vessel, of one Smith ill-wrought I must soon venture on another deep,And dare, with little hope, and little thought Of praise and honour and untroubled sleep:So, as each sails upon his perilous sea, I pray High God He strengthen you, and me.