Page:A midsummer holiday and other poems (IA midsummerholiday00swin).pdf/160

 'Is the past not all inscribed with the praises of our Lords? Is the memory dead of deeds done of yore, the love grown cold That should bind our hearts to trust in their counsels wise and bold? These that stand against you now, senseless crowds and heartless hordes, Are not these the sons of men that withstood your kings of old? Theirs it is to bind and loose; theirs the key that knows the wards, Theirs the staff to lead or smite; yours, the spades and ploughs and hods: Theirs to hear and yours to cry, Power is yours, O Lords our Gods.'