Classic Poem

She's England yet! The nations never knew her;
Or, if they did, were ready to forget.
She made new worlds that paid no homage to her,
Because she called for none as for a debt.
The bullying power that deemed all nations craven,
And that her star of destiny had set,
Was sure that she would seek a coward's haven—
And tempted her, and found her England yet!
They learn their England, and they soon forget,
To learn again that she is England yet.

They watched Britannia ever looking forward,
But could not see the things her children saw.
They marked in Southern seas her boats pull shoreward,
But only saw the eyeglass, heard the “Haw!”
In tents and bungalows and outpost stations
Thin white men ruled for her, unseen, unheard,
Till millions of her races and her nations
Were ready to obey her at a word.

They learn their England, and in peace forget,
To learn in storm that she is England yet.

She's England yet! By Russia's fatal marshes,
And where the distance reddens on the sands,
And in the land where admiration harsh is,
They never doubted English hearts and hands.
So says our gallant ally, bright and clever:
She loses every battle save the last.
And where they sing “The Maple Leaf for Ever!”
Their faith in England grows more firm and fast.

We learn in storm; in safety we forget—
To learn again in storm she's England yet.

She's England yet; and men shall doubt no longer,
And mourn no longer for what she has been.
She'll be a greater England and a stronger—
A better England than the world has seen.
Our sons, who know not Royalty's regalia,
Nor give a thought to courts that fume and fret,
Are fighting for her, fighting for Australia,
And blasphemously hail her “England Yet!”

She's England yet, with little to regret—
And, more than ever, she'll be England yet!