Poems of the Great War/England to the Sea
ENGLAND TO THE SEA
HEARKEN, O Mother, hearken to thy daughter!
Fain would I tell thee what men tell to me,
Saying that henceforth no more on any water
Shall I be first or great or loved or free,
But that these others—so the tale is spoken—
Who have not known thee all these centuries
By fire and sword shall yet turn England broken
Back from thy breast and beaten from thy seas,
Me—whom thou barest where they waves should
guard me,
Me—whom thou suckled'st on thy milk of foam,
Me—whom thy kisses shaped what while they
marred me,
To whom thy storms are sweet and ring of
home.
"Behold," they cry, "she is grown soft and
strengthless,
All her proud memories changed to fear and
fret."
Say, thou, who hast watched through ages that are
lengthless,
Whom have I feared, and when did I forget?
What sons of mine have shunned thy words and
races?
Have I not reared for thee time and again
And bid go forth to share thy fierce embraces
Sea-ducks, sea-wolves, sea-rovers, and sea-men?
Names that thou knowest—great hearts that thou
holdest,
Rocking them, rocking them in an endless
wake—
Captains the world can match not with its boldest,
Hawke, Howard, Grenville, Frobisher, Drake?
Nelson—the greatest of them all—the master
Who swept across thee like a shooting star,
And, while the Earth stood veiled before disaster,
Caught Death and slew him—there—at Tra-
falgar?
Mother, they knew me then as thou didst know
me;
Then I cried, Peace, and every flag was furled:
But I am old, it seems, and they would show me
That never more my peace shall bind the world.
Wherefore, O Sea, I, standing thus before thee,
Stretch forth my hands unto thy surge and say:
"When they come forth who seek this empire o'er
thee,
And I go forth to meet them—on that day
"God grant to us the old Armada weather,
The winds that rip, the heavens that stoop and
lour—
Not till the Sea and England sink together,
Shall they be masters! Let them boast that
hour!"