Page:Poems of the Great War - National Relief Fund.djvu/24

 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!"

R. E. VERNÈDE