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And in that spirit interpenetrate The numberless appealing strains that bring The look of England into everything That she hath looked on till the night grew late; Where, as amongst the four gray seas she sate, And mused upon it, she hath felt the ring That bound her to her narrow island spring, And something passed, and passing made her great. And Empire mustered round her. Ere she knew Her state, her hour was on her once again. Herseemed that something winged from her flew. Herseemed as though the feet of marching men Bore past her to a music never mute While England proudly takes that proud salute.

HESEPE, 12th July