They [the English] amuse themselves sadly as in the custom of
their country.
[Fr., Ils s'amusaient tristement selon read more

They [the English] amuse themselves sadly as in the custom of
their country.
[Fr., Ils s'amusaient tristement selon la contume de leur pays.]

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
read more

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is forever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

England is a paradise for women, and hell for horses: Italy is a
paradise for horses, hell for women.

England is a paradise for women, and hell for horses: Italy is a
paradise for horses, hell for women.

We are indeed a nation of shopkeepers.

We are indeed a nation of shopkeepers.

Let Pitt then boast of his victory to his nation of
shopkeepers--(Nation Boutiquiere).

Let Pitt then boast of his victory to his nation of
shopkeepers--(Nation Boutiquiere).

'Tis a glorious charter, deny it who can,
That's breathed in the words, "I'm an Englishman."

'Tis a glorious charter, deny it who can,
That's breathed in the words, "I'm an Englishman."

Bind her, grind her, burn her with fire,
Cast her ashes into the sea,--
She shall escape, read more

Bind her, grind her, burn her with fire,
Cast her ashes into the sea,--
She shall escape, she shall aspire,
She shall arise to make men free;
She shall arise in a sacred scorn,
Lighting the lives that are yet unborn,
Spirit supernal, splendor eternal,
England!

Providence has given to the French the empire of the land, to the
English that of the sea, to read more

Providence has given to the French the empire of the land, to the
English that of the sea, to the Germans that of--the air!

Oh, to be in England,
Now that April's there,
And whoever wakes in England
read more

Oh, to be in England,
Now that April's there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf,
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England--now.