Therefore deride not
Speech of the muses,
England my mother,
Maker of men.
Nations are mortal,
Fragile is greatness;
Fortune may fly thee,
Song shall not fly.
Song the all-girdling,
Song cannot perish:
Men shall make music,
Man shall give ear.
Not while the choric
Chant of creation
Floweth from all things,
Poured without pause,
Cease we to echo
Faintly the descant
Whereto for ever
Dances the world.