T
��Jesse Hdgar Middleton
When Force would be the mark of shame And men would curb their murderous rage.
Beat out your swords to pruning hooks/ He shouted to the folk.
But I I read my history books And marvelled as he spoke.
For it was glorious England,
The Mother of the Free, Who loosed that foolish tongue, but sent
Her Admirals to sea.
And liberty and love were ours,
Home, and a brood of lusty sons, The long, North sunlight and the flow rs.
Flow could we think about the guns, The searchlights on a wintry cloud,
The seamen, stern and bold, Since we were hurrying with the crowd
To rake the hills for gold?
But it was glorious England
Who scanned the threatening morn
To me the very name of her Is like a bugle-horn.
THE ZEPPELIN
HE sacristy was trimmed with orange bloom.
The memory of incense floated faint About the altar. In the holy gloom
A lamp was hung before a placid saint, A red lamp, burning everlastingly.
The priestly monotone, the bride s reply, Soft with the sweet timidity of love!
The bridegroom s light caress, the answering sigh! A golden circlet and a crumpled glove !
Thus, thus they launched them on a misty sea.
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