Not for I lie glamor and the trumpet call. Nor all the'magic of a. splendid pride, Do wo, the sons of Britain, one and all Go forth tu. battle in the field and tide! Nor yet for dreams of all that might hare been. Nor yet to mock a hundred trite decrees, Nor vet. to widen still a, wide demesne — Noj not, for things ephemeral like these! But there is something that we still can claim : A stirring of the heart, a nameless heat That finds ns fearless of all ends, save shame, And heedless of all Ills, save one—defeat ! Tho call is not (o war for wars vile gain, And yet the clarion wakes weird miseries; And tho’ our toll bo shipwrecks, wounded, slain, We fight for peace and honor, yea, for these! And, gathered from our lands athwart the earth, And coming from the ocean stretched between. Our men go out (o fight to hold their birth In worthy claim, and foil despotic spleen. Nor yet to crush a tyrant is their aim, Nor yet to bid a king bend royal knees; No, but to hold our mighty dear-bought name, And keep onr country free—for those, for these! S. G. August. Invercargill.
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THE ANSWER, Evening Star, Issue 15644, 7 November 1914
THE ANSWER Evening Star, Issue 15644, 7 November 1914
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