Sir Owen Seaman
Sir Owen Seaman Poems
England, in this great fight to which you go
Because, where Honour calls you, go you must,
Be glad, whatever comes, at least to know
...
Ye that have gentle hearts and fain
To succour men in need,
There is no voice could ask in vain
With such a cause to plead --
...
Were I a burglar in the dock
With every chance of doing time,
With Justice sitting like a rock
...
Not only that your cause is just and right --
This much was never doubted; war or play,
We go with clean hands into any fight;
...
Land of the desolate, Mother of tears,
Weeping your beauty marred and torn,
Your children tossed upon the spears,
...
Were I a burglar in the dock
With every chance of doing time,
With Justice sitting like a rock
...
Farewell, my CONSTANTINE! A guardian navy
Facilitates your exit on the blue;
For Greece has been this long while in the gravy
...
Now with the full year Memory holds her tryst
Heavy with such a tale of bitter loss
As never Earth has suffered since the Christ
...
Facing the guns, he jokes as well
As any Judge upon the Bench;
Between the crash of shell and shell
His laughter rings along the trench;
...
He died, as soldiers die, amid the strife,
Mindful of England in his latest prayer;
God, of His love, would have so fair a life
...
Now is your time of trial, now
When into dusk the glamour pales
And the first glow of passion fails
That lit your eyes and flushed your brow
...
By nature they abhor the light,
But here in this their latest tract
Your parrot Press by oversight
Has deviated into fact;
...
To people who allege that we
Incline to overrate the Sea
I answer, 'We do not;
Apart from being colored blue,
...
Sir Owen Seaman Biography
Sir Owen Seaman, 1st Baronet (18 September 1861 - 2 February 1936) was a British writer, journalist and poet. He is best known as editor of Punch, from 1906 to 1932. Born in Shrewsbury, he was the only son of William Mantle Seaman and Sarah Ann Balls. He distinguished himself academically both at Shrewsbury School and later Clare College, Cambridge. Following this, he worked as a schoolmaster at Rossall School (1884), professor of literature at Durham College of Science, Newcastle upon Tyne (1890-1903), and became a barrister of the Inner Temple in 1897. Seaman's first successful submission to the satirical and humorous magazine Punch was "Rhyme of the Kipperling", an 1894 parody of Rudyard Kipling. The same year he published a full volume of parodies entitled Horace at Cambridge. After several years of submitting work which showed "a remarkable gift for the composition of light verse," he was invited to join the staff in 1897, becoming assistant editor in 1902 and finally editor in 1906. It was during his tenure there that A. A. Milne, author of the Winnie-the-Pooh stories, worked as his assistant; it is thought that Seaman's dour disposition may have been the inspiration behind the gloomy character of Eeyore. In 1914 he was knighted, more likely for his creativity than for his patriotism, which saw fuller bloom in the course of World War I. During the war, he wrote "number of verses of a somewhat mindless, patriotic kind, reflecting the optimism and devotion to his native land rather than the stirrings of poetic genius," as anthologist John M. Munro put it.[4] In 1915, he published War Time, a book of poetry that Munro described as "a mixture of satiric verse and patriotic doggerel." Nevertheless, in 1933, he was created a baronet, of Bouverie Street in the City of London. Sir Owen never married, and died in 1936. He is buried in Putney Vale Cemetery.)
The Best Poem Of Sir Owen Seaman
Pro Patria
England, in this great fight to which you go
Because, where Honour calls you, go you must,
Be glad, whatever comes, at least to know
You have your quarrel just.
Peace was your care; before the nations' bar
Her cause you pleaded and her ends you sought;
But not for her sake, being what you are,
Could you be bribed and bought.
Others may spurn the pledge of land to land,
May with the brute sword stain a gallant past;
But by the seal to which
you
set your hand,
Thank God, you still stand fast!
Forth, then, to front that peril of the deep
With smiling lips and in your eyes the light,
Steadfast and confident, of those who keep
Their storied 'scutcheon bright.
And we, whose burden is to watch and wait,-
High-hearted ever, strong in faith and prayer,-
We ask what offering we may consecrate,
What humble service share.
To steel our souls against the lust of ease;
To bear in silence though our hearts may bleed;
To spend ourselves, and never count the cost,
For others' greater need;-
To go our quiet ways, subdued and sane;
To hush all vulgar clamour of the street;
With level calm to face alike the strain
Of triumph or defeat;
This be our part, for so we serve you best,
So best confirm their prowess and their pride,
Your warrior sons, to whom in this high test
Our fortunes we confide.
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4/25/2024 7:03:50 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Purchased book of World War 1 Poetry. I read Pro Patria and To Belgium In Exile and found them two superb poems from someone unknown to me. I will have to track down more of his work.