All ye who fought since England was a name,
Because Her soil was holy in your eyes;
Who heard Her summons and confessed Her claim,
Who flung against a world's time-hallow'd lies
The truth of English freedom--fain to give
Those last lone moments, careless of your pain,
Knowing that only so must England live
And win, by sacrifice, the right to reign--
Be glad, that still the spur of your bequest
Urges your heirs their threefold way along--
The way of Toil that craveth not for rest,
Clear Honour, and stark Will to punish wrong!
The seed ye sow'd God quicken'd with His Breath;
The crop hath ripen'd--lo, there is no death!
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[Illustration: THE LINKS BEING DEVOTED TO ALLOTMENTS, MR. AND MRS.
BUNKER-BROWNE PRACTISE APPROACH SHOTS, WITH THE IDEA OF FILLING THEIR
BASKET WITH POTATOES AT THE SAME TIME.]
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