A stirring feeling grips me, there is a quickening of pace, I look to the East, to the West to see the splendour, the face of Mankind in unity and hope we all must trust, all linked by will, as the faintest breeze retreats like a ghostly dust.
St George’s heart ever beats through the land loud and clear. Harken! Listen to the drum; it captures our hope, our deepest dread, and fear.
Take heed, in God’s splendour, that which never fails to cheer, a rousing shout, when all may quake, because to stand firm, love the free and all of England’s dream, hand in hand we walk, my friend.
Hoist up, up high that freedom flag, for the love of the red and white, it is a symbol of our hero’s blood, spilt for us on a field, against the dragon beast, where the grass will no longer grow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem