To-day the people gather from the streets,
To-day the soldiers muster near and far;
Peace, with a glad look and a grateful, meets
Her rugged brother War.
To-day the Queen of all the English land,
She who sits high o’er Kaisers and o’er Kings,
Gives with her royal hand—th’ Imperial hand
Whose grasp the earth enrings—
Her Cross of Valour to the worthiest;
No golden toy with milky pearl besprent,
But simple bronze, and for a warrior’s breast
A fair, fit ornament.
And richer than red gold that dull bronze seems,
Since it was bought with lavish waste and worth
Whereto the wealth of earth’s gold-sanded streams
Were but a lack, and dearth.
Muscovite metal makes this English Cross,
Won in a rain of blood and wreath of flame;
The guns that thundered for their brave lives’ loss
Are worn hence, for their fame!
Ay, listen! all ye maidens laughing-eyed,
And all ye English mothers, be aware!
Those who shall pass before ye at noontide
Your friends and champions are.
The men of all the army and the fleet,
The very bravest of the very brave,
Linesman and Lord, these fought with equal feet,
Firm-planted on their grave.
The men who, setting light their blood and breath
So they might win a victor’s haught renown,
Held their steel straight against the face of Death,
And frowned his frowning down.
And some that grasped the bomb, all fury-fraught,
And hurled it far, to spend its spite away—
Between the rescue and the risk no thought—
Shall pass our Queen this day.
And some who climbed the deadly glacis-side,
For all that steel could stay, or savage shell;
And some whose blood upon the Colours dried
Tells if they bore them well.
Some, too, who, gentle-hearted even in strife,
Seeing their fellow or their friend go down,
Saved his, at peril of their own dear life,
Winning the Civil Crown.
Well done for them; and, fair Isle, well for thee!
While that thy bosom beareth sons like those;
‘This precious stone set in the silver sea’
Shall never fear her foes!
Sir Edwin Arnold.
