Cicely Fox Smith
Sons Of The English - Poem by Cicely Fox Smith
Why do you smile so glad, sons of the English?
Why do your eyes gaze forward, happy and glowing?
'Only we know that the battle cometh upon us, -
Joy in the knowing.'
Whitherward trend your ways, sons of the English?
Where go ye forth to-day, stalwart and cheery?
'Outward thro' alien lands take we our journey,
Lands that are dreary.'
Where have ye won your bays, sons of the English,
Bays that ye clasp in your fingers dripping and gory?
'Swift from the hands of Death, bleeding and breathless,
Grasped we our glory.'
When will you cease to roam, sons of the English,
Out over perilous seas no longer forth faring?
'Never while earth has foes for our hands to conquer,
Deeds for daring.'
Were it not happy to rest, sons of the English,
Travail and wounds and pain no longer pursuing?
'Rest - when the very blood that throbs in our pulses
Drives us to doing?'
What will the end of it be, sons of the English,
You who go forth to war, fearing no omen?
'Death if need be: red death in the flush of the foray,
Face the foeman!'
Comments about Sons Of The English by Cicely Fox Smith
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You