Sea to sea that clasps and fosters England, uttering
ever-more
Song eterne and praise immortal of the indomitable
shore,
Lifts aloud her constant heart up, south
to north and east to west,
Here in speech that shames all music, there in thunder-throated
roar,
Chiming concord out of discord, waking
rapture out of rest.
All her ways are lovely, all her works and symbols
are divine,
Yet shall man love best what first bade
leap his heart and bend his knee;
Yet where first his whole soul worshipped shall his
soul set up her shrine:
Nor may love not know the lovelier, fair
as both beheld may be,
Here the limitless north-eastern, there
the strait south-western sea.
Though their chant bear all one burden, as ere man
was born it bore;
Though the burden be diviner than the songs all souls
adore;
Yet may love not choose but choose between
them which to love the best.
Me the sea my nursing-mother, me the Channel green
and hoar,
Holds at heart more fast than all things,
bares for me the goodlier breast,
Lifts for me the lordlier love-song, bids for me more
sunlight shine,
Sounds for me the stormier trumpet of
the sweeter strain to me.
So the broad pale Thames is loved not like the tawny
springs of Tyne:
Choice is clear between them for the soul
whose vision holds in fee
Here the limitless north-eastern, there
the strait south-western sea.
Choice is clear, but dear is either; nor has either
not in store
Many a likeness, many a written sign of spirit-searching
lore,
Whence the soul takes fire of sweet remembrance,
magnified and blest.
Thought of songs whose flame-winged feet have trod
the unfooted water-floor
When the lord of all the living lords
of souls bade speed their quest,
Soft live sound like children’s babble down
the rippling sand’s incline,
Or the lovely song that loves them, hailed
with thankful prayer and plea;
These are parcels of the harvest here whose gathered
sheaves are mine,
Garnered now, but sown and reaped where
winds make wild with wrath or glee
Here the limitless north-eastern, there
the strait south-western sea.
Song, thy name is freedom, seeing thy strength was
born of breeze and brine.
Fare now forth and fear no fortune; such
a seal is set on thee.
Joy begat and memory bare thee, seeing in spirit a
two-fold sign,
Even the sign of those thy fosters, each
as thou from all time free,
Here the limitless north-eastern, there
the strait south-western sea.
PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
LONDON