Poems: New and Old (Newbolt)/The Song of the Guns at Sea
For other versions of this work, see The Song of the Guns at Sea.
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The Song of the Guns at Sea
Oh hear! Oh hear!Across the sullen tide,Across the echoing dome horizon-wideWhat pulse of fearBeats with tremendous boom?What call of instant doom,With thunderstroke of terror and of pride,With urgency that may not be denied,Reverberates upon the heart's own drum—Come! . . . Come! . . . for thou must come!
Come forth, O Soul!This is thy day of power.This is the day and this the glorious hourThat was the goalOf thy self-conquering strife.The love of child and wife,The fields of Earth and the wide ways of Thought—Did not thy purpose count them all as noughtThat in this moment thou thyself mayst giveAnd in thy country's life for ever live?
Therefore rejoiceThat in thy passionate primeYouth's nobler hope disdained the spoils of TimeAnd thine own choiceFore-earned for thee this day.Rejoice! rejoice to obeyIn the great hour of life that men call DeathThe beat that bids thee draw heroic breath,Deep-throbbing till thy mortal heart be dumb—Come! . . . Come! . . . the time is come!