Xxii

--Our own Immortals! Ours while we can keep An isle of quiet for you ’neath the hoar Shade of the Minster, where the Nation bore Your mortal relics weeping. Rest you deep! Rest! And while children’s children softly weep Over you, and the great rose windows pour A glory round, at peace for evermore In marble and in alabaster sleep! --Knowing your England! Knowing that while Time Tries men by fire, these men will not recede From where their fathers of the early prime Led them by generations great in deed To deeds still greater, where on fields sublime The freeborn sons of England bled--and bleed!

HESEPE, 25th July

Influences, XX: spelling error in “cachinnation” corrected.

England, XIV: stray period removed.