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!

We are indeed a nation of shopkeepers.

We are indeed a nation of shopkeepers.

In these troublesome days when the great
Mother Empire stands splendidly isolated in Europe.

In these troublesome days when the great
Mother Empire stands splendidly isolated in Europe.

In spite of their hats being very ugly, Goddam! I love the
English.
[Fr., Quoique leurs chapeaux sont read more

In spite of their hats being very ugly, Goddam! I love the
English.
[Fr., Quoique leurs chapeaux sont bien laids,
Goddam! j'aime les anglais.]

Where are the rough brave Britons to be found
With Hearts of Oak, so much of old renowned?

Where are the rough brave Britons to be found
With Hearts of Oak, so much of old renowned?

Roused by the lash of his own stubborn tail,
Our lion now will foreign foes assail.

Roused by the lash of his own stubborn tail,
Our lion now will foreign foes assail.

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.

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.