Charles Sangster Poems

One voice, one people, one in heart
And soul and feeling and desire.
Re-light the smouldering martial fire
...

GOD of the Harvest, Thou, whose sun
Has ripened all the golden grain,
We bless Thee for Thy bounteous store,
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Her thoughts are sweet glimpses of heaven,
Her life is that heaven brought down;
Oh, never to mortal was given
So rare and bejewelled a crown!
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NO maiden dream, nor fancy theme,
Brown Labour's muse would sing;
Her stately mien and russet sheen
Demand a stronger wing.
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When the heavens throb and vibrate
All along their silver veins,
To the mellow storm of music
Sweeping o'er the starry trains,
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ALL peacefully gliding,
The waters dividing,
The indolent batteau moved slowly along,
The rowers, light-hearted,
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'They run! they run!'-'Who run?' Not they
Who faced that decimating fire
As coolly as if human ire
Were rooted from their hearts;
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England's Hope and England's Heir!
Head and crown of Britain's glory,
Be thy future half so fair
As her past is famed in story,
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We never say, 'Good Night;'
For our eager lips are fleeter
Than the tongue, and a kiss is sweeter
Than parting words,
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I

My footsteps press where, centuries ago,
The Red Men fought and conquered; lost and won.
...