Classic Poem

Not with high-vaulting phrase, or rush
Of weak-winged epithets that tire
With their own weight, or formal gush,
We greet thee, Sire!

To flights less lofty we aspire.
We pray, in speech unskilled to feign,
That all good things good men desire
May crown Thy reign;

That our State " Dreadnought" once again
May leave in broken seas to veer,
And shape her course direct and plain,
With Thee to steer,

Into blue sky and water clear,
Where she on even keel shall ride,
Secure from reef and shoal, or fear
Of wind and tide.

So may it be, Sire! — so abide!
Till, by God's grace, this Empire shine
More great in power than great in pride,
Through Thee and Thine;

Nor from her honoured past resign
One least bequest; or vail her claim
To aught that dowers an ancient line —
An ancient fame!