Page:Poems of the Great War - Cunliffe.djvu/282

 256 FRANK TAYLOR

So shine they now, and like the noontide sun Before them all the fair Saint George rides on.

There goes the boy of Cre^y whispering low

To him of Agincourt, a kingly pair, With many mighty men which bent the bow, —

There go the dead that died for England, there ;

There go those quenchless Talbots, there the flower Of Devon, Grenville, Gilbert, mariners rare.

She too who thought foul scorn of Philip's power, — There go the dead that died for England, there ;

And Sidney who the rippling cup resigned,

And happy Wolfe ; wan Pitt released from care,

Nelson the well-beloved and all his kind, — There go the dead that died for England, there ;

And he who brake the Corsican's strong spell, And Nicholson, impatient of despair.

And Gordon, faithful, desolate sentinel, —

There go the dead that died for England, there ;

And there unhelmeted, ungirt of brand, Victoria moves with mild, maternal air,

Still vigilant, still prayerful for the land, —

There go the dead that died for England, there.

Nor ride they idly nor with indolent rein. Irresolute, as men that seek no foe,

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