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Ah! the perfidious English!
[Fr., Ah! la perfide Angleterre!]
Ah! the perfidious English!
[Fr., Ah! la perfide Angleterre!]
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!
Be England what she will,
With all her faults, she is my country still.
Be England what she will,
With all her faults, she is my country still.
'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."
Oh, to be in England,
Now that April's there,
And whoever wakes in England
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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.
Britannia needs no bulwarks
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain wave,
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Britannia needs no bulwarks
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain wave,
Her home is on the deep.
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!
England with all thy faults, I love thee still--
My country! and, while yet a nook is left
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England with all thy faults, I love thee still--
My country! and, while yet a nook is left
Where English minds and manners may be found,
Shall be constrained to love thee.
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
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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.