Classic Poem

Not by the conquest of the world
Would England triumph most.
Round such a bride her strong arms furled
Would find that bride a ghost.

Not by grim victories in far lands
And streams that run with gore
And wild blows dealt by savage hands
And countless cannons' roar:

Not by the gallows planted where
Should rise bright Freedom's tree:
Not thus will England hold the fair
Pure empire of the sea.

Only by love within her eyes
And peace abroad, at home;
Peace here, beneath calm sunlit skies,
And peace upon the foam.