England To India

Christmas, 1918.

Beautiful is man’s home: how fair, Wrapt in her robe of azurous air, The Earth thro’ stress of ice and fire Came on the path of God’s desire, Redeeming Chaos, to compose Exquisite forms of lily and rose, With every creature a design Of loveliness or craft divine Searchable and unsearchable, And each insect a miracle!

Truth is as Beauty unconfined: Various as Nature is man’s Mind: Each race and tribe is as a flower Set in God’s garden with its dower Of special instinct; and man’s grace Compact of all must all embrace. China and Ind, Hellas or France, Each hath its own inheritance; And each to Truth’s rich market brings Its bright divine imaginings, In rival tribute to surprise The world with native merchandise. Nor least in worth nor last in years Of artists, poets, saints and seers, England, in her far northern sea, Fashion’d the jewel of Liberty, Fetch’d from the shore of Palestine (Land of the Lily and mystic Vine). Where once in the everlasting dawn Christ’s Love-star flamed, that heavenly sign Whereto all nations shall be drawn, Unfabled Magi, and uplift Each to Love’s cradle his own gift.

Thou who canst dream and understand, Dost thou not dream for thine own land This dream of Truth, and contemplate That happier world, Love’s free Estate? Say, didst thou dream, O Sister fair, How hand in hand we entered there?