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Turn, and the world is thine.

Count, are we feeble or few?
Look, are we poor in the land?
The Blood?

Mother, be proud of thy

Hear, is our speech so rude?
Judge, are we men of

Those that have stayed at thy knees, Mother, go call them in

We that were bred overseas wait and would speak with our kin.

Not in the dark do we fight-haggle and flout and gibe; Selling our love for a price, loaning our hearts for a bribe. Gifts have we only to-day-Love without promise or fee

Hear, for thy children speak, from the uttermost parts of the sea!



Royal and Dower-royal, I the Queen

Fronting thy richest sea with richer handsA thousand mills roar through me where I glean All races from all lands.


Me the Sea-captain loved, the River built,

Wealth sought and Kings adventured life to hold. Hail, England! I am Asia-Power on silt,

Death in my hands, but Gold!


Clive kissed me on the mouth and eyes and brow,
Wonderful kisses, so that I became

Crowned above Queens-a withered beldame now, Brooding on ancient fame.


Hail, Mother! Do they call me rich in trade?
Little care I, but hear the shorn priest drone,
And watch my silk-clad lovers, man by maid,
Laugh 'neath my Shwe Dagon.


Hail, Mother! East and West must seek my aid
Ere the spent gear may dare the ports afar.
The second doorway of the wide world's trade
Is mine to loose or bar.


Hail, Mother! Hold me fast; my Praya sleeps
Under innumerable keels to-day.

Yet guard (and landward), or to-morrow sweeps
Thy warships down the bay!


Into the mist my guardian prows put forth,
Behind the mist my virgin ramparts lie,
The Warden of the Honour of the North,
Sleepless and veiled am I!

Quebec and Montreal

Peace is our portion. Yet a whisper rose,
Foolish and causeless, half in jest, half hate.
Now wake we and remember mighty blows,
And, fearing no man, wait!



From East to West the circling word has passed,
Till West is East beside our land-locked blue;
From East to West the tested chain holds fast,
The well-forged link rings true!


Hail! Snatched and bartered oft from hand to hand,
I dream my dream, by rock and heath and pine,
Of Empire to the northward. Ay, one land
From Lion's Head to Line!


Greeting! Nor fear nor favour won us place,
Got between greed of gold and dread of drouth,
Loud-voiced and reckless as the wild tide-race
That whips our harbour-mouth!


Greeting! My birth-stain have I turned to good;
Forcing strong wills perverse to steadfastness:
The first flush of the tropics in my blood,

And at my feet Success!


The northern stirp beneath the southern skies

I build a Nation for an Empire's need,

Suffer a little, and my land shall rise,

Queen over lands indeed!


Man's love first found me; man's hate made me Hell; For my babes' sake I cleansed those infamies.

Earnest for leave to live and labour well,
God flung me peace and ease.


Last, loneliest, loveliest, exquisite, apart-
On us, on us the unswerving season smiles,
Who wonder 'mid our fern why men depart
To seek the Happy Isles!


Truly ye come of The Blood; slower to bless than to ban; Little used to lie down at the bidding of any man. Flesh of the flesh that I bred, bone of the bone that I


Stark as your sons shall be-stern as your fathers were. Deeper than speech our love, stronger than life our


But we do not fall on the neck nor kiss when we come together.

My arm is nothing weak, my strength is not gone by; Sons, I have borne many sons, but my dugs are not dry. Look, I have made ye a place and opened wide the doors, That ye may talk together, your Barons and Councillors

Wards of the Outer March, Lords of the Lower Seas, Ay, talk to your gray mother that bore you on her knees!

That ye may talk together, brother to brother's faceThus for the good of your peoples-thus for the Pride

of the Race.

Also, we will make promise. So long as The Blood endures,


I shall know that your good is mine: ye shall feel that my strength is yours:

In the day of Armageddon, at the last great fight of all, That Our House stand together and the pillars do not fall.

Draw now the threefold knot firm on the ninefold bands,' And the Law that ye make shall be law after the rule of your lands.

This for the waxen Heath, and that for the Wattle


This for the Maple-leaf, and that for the southern


The Law that ye make shall be law and I do not press my will,

Because ye are Sons of The Blood and call me Mother still.

Now must ye speak to your kinsmen and they must speak to you,

After the use of the English, in straight-flung words and few.

Go to your work and be strong, halting not in your ways, Baulking the end half-won for an instant dole of praise. Stand to your work and be wise-certain of sword and


Who are neither children nor Gods, but men in a world of men!

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