Classic Poem

Lions of war, our noblest and our best,
Who won the desperate beach and death-lash'd crest
And look'd on Fate's most awful face unhid,
Poorly our praise may match the thing you did,
Who, from these ultimate isles and warless seas,
Bade Hellespont and golden Chersonese
Wake from their dream of perish'd glory and thrill
To know the heart of valour flaming still: —
We, irk'd and shamed to sit only and hear
In homes your wild devotion makes more dear,
Whether ye sleep upon your fiery height
Or fortune, maiming, bar you from the fight
Or, gracious and consenting, so befriend
To stride the road of victory to the end
And smite to hell yon ravening bulk of sin —
Humble and proud, we greet and claim you kin.