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England's Answer Post by :directoris Category :Poems Author :Rudyard Kipling Date :November 2010 Read :1862

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England's Answer

Truly ye come of The Blood; slower to bless than to ban;
Little used to lie down at the bidding of any man.
Flesh of the flesh that I bred, bone of the bone that I bare;
Stark as your sons shall be--stern as your fathers were.
Deeper than speech our love, stronger than life our tether,
But we do not fall on the neck nor kiss when we come together.
My arm is nothing weak, my strength is not gone by;
Sons, I have borne many sons, but my breasts are not dry,
Look, I have made ye a place and opened wide the doors,
That ye may talk together, your Barons and Councillors--
Wards of the Outer March, Lords of the Lower Seas,
Ay, talk to your gray mother that bore you on her knees!--
That ye may talk together, brother to brother's face--
Thus for the good of your peoples--thus for the Pride of the Race.
Also, we will make promise. So long as The Blood endures,
I shall know that your good is mine: ye shall feel that my strength
is yours:
In the day of Armageddon, at the last great fight of all,
That Our House stand together and the pillars do not fall.
Draw now the threefold knot firm on the ninefold bands,
And the Law that ye make shall be law after the rule of your lands.
This for the waxen Heath, and that for the Wattle-bloom,
This for the Maple-leaf, and that for the southern Broom.
The Law that ye make shall be law and I do not press my will,
Because ye are Sons of The Blood and call me Mother still.
Now must ye speak to your kinsmen and they must speak to you,
After the use of the English, in straight-flung words and few.
Go to your work and be strong, halting not in your ways,
Balking the end half-won for an instant dole of praise.
Stand to your work and be wise--certain of sword and pen,
Who are neither children nor Gods, but men in a world of men!

(The end)
Rudyard Kipling's poem: England's Answer

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In Springtime In Springtime

In Springtime
My garden blazes brightly with the rose-bush and the peach,And the _koeil_ sings above it, in the _siris_ by the well,From the creeper-covered trellis comes the squirrel's chattering speech,And the blue jay screams and flutters where the cheery _satbhai_ dwell.But the rose has lost its fragrance, and the _koeil's_ note is strange;I am sick of endless sunshine, sick of blossom-burdened bough.Give me back the leafless woodlands where the winds of Springtime range--Give me back one day in England, for it's Spring in England now!Through the pines the gusts are booming, o'er the brown fields blowing chill,From the furrow of the plough-share

The Coastwise Lights The Coastwise Lights

The Coastwise Lights
Our brows are bound with spindrift and the weed is on our knees;Our loins are battered 'neath us by the swinging, smoking seas.From reef and rock and skerry--over headland, ness, and voe--The Coastwise Lights of England watch the ships of England go!Through the endless summer evenings, on the lineless, level floors;Through the yelling Channel tempest when the siren hoots and roars--By day the dipping house-flag and by night the rocket's trail--As the sheep that graze behind us so we know them where they hail.We bridge across the dark, and bid the helmsman have a care,The flash that wheeling inland wakes his