The Path Of The English Poem by Cicely Fox Smith

When the racing sea-tides flow,
And the strong ships seaward go,
When the voice of the ocean's crying,
And the wind's wild bugles blow,
Go forth - for the order's sped,
And the way lies clear ahead;
Go forth, where the salt spray's flying,
On the way that the English tread.

Be strong to dare and fulfil,
When the trumpet's blaring shrill,
Tho' the foe stand close in the hollow,
And the shot fly straight from the hill.
Go forth! May you know not dread,
Nor halt where the vanguard's led,
For strong must they be who follow
On the way that the English tread.

Go forth! For the Empress-land
Be the work of each strong young hand.
Tho' your name may never be written
Where the names of the mighty stand;
Tho' the light that is bright ahead
Be the glare of a sunset red,
Go forth, as befits a Briton,
On the way that the English tread.

For is it not the best of all
In the front of the fight to fall,
Tho' you're leaving your life's young beauty
To answer the ringing call?
To know, when the swift death's sped,
And your strength is well-nigh fled,
That at least you have done your duty
On the way that the English tread.