To England

By George Sterling

O mighty Mother of our heart and mind !
    We, sons of thine in vision and In deed,
    Gaze eastward, where our brothers toil and bleed
And hear thy battle-music on the wind.
Behold! we gaze, who are to thee as blind,
    And listen, seeming deaf to all thy need,
    But in our hearts what ancient Voices plead!
What clarions echo, calling kind to kind!

We are a folk of many hearths and hates,
    Fretted with alien counsels, and unsure;
        Yet some there be who know our war is one,
And strain upon the barrier of our Fates,
    And scorn the coward twilight that endures
        Between our darkness and thy noonday sun.

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