English poem
Vi
by Archibald Allan Bowman (1883–1936)
My Countrymen! The years that have gone by Since Hengist came with Horsa from the sea, Find the same substance in you, fiercely free, Yet of that fundamental liberty, The soul’s state, oft unable to descry The deeper import, your simplicity, Your limit, only natural chivalry Redeeming what your insight doth deny. Unskilled to conn the inwardness of things, There is a health about you keeps you clean, Derisive of all high pretence that chimes Not with your plainness, sound. Your laughter rings Over hard toil, and all things grandly mean Your humour shatters, punctures, or sublimes.
HESEPE, 22nd June