England

1901-1902

Lift up thine eyes, Queen-Warrior of the world! Stand, fearless-footed on Time’s shifting verge, And watch the New Year’s doubtful Dawn emerge From parting clouds thick-roll’d in thunderous War! Lo, how thy broad East reddens to the West, The while thy thousand-victoried flag, unfurl’d, Waves to thy North and South in one royal fold Of tent-like shelter for an Empire’s rest; O Queen, sword-girded, helmeted in gold, Strong Conqueror of all thy many foes, Look from thy rocky heights and see afar The coming Future menacing the Past, With clamour and wild change of present things, Kingdoms down-shaken with the fall of kings, But fear not Thou! Thou’rt still the first and last Imperial wearer of the deathless Rose,-- Crown’d with the sunlight, girdled with the sea, Mother of mightiest Nations yet to be!