My England was a draper's shop,
And seemed to be the place to fit
My size of man; and I'd to stop
And make believe I fancied it--
That and a yearly glimpse of mountain blue,
A book or two.
A bigger England stirs afloat.
I see it well in one who's come
From where he left his home and boat
By Cornish coasts, whose rollers drum
Their English music on an English shore
Right at his door.
And one who's left the North a spell
Has found an England he can love,
Hacking out coal. He's learnt her well
Though mines are narrow and, above,
The dingy houses set in dreary rows,
Seem all he knows.
The one of us who's travelled most
Says England, stretching far beyond
Her narrow borders, means a host
Of countries where her word's her bond
Because she's steadfast, everywhere the same,
To play the game.
Our college chum (my mate these days)
Thinks England is a garden where
There blooms in English speech and ways,
Nurtured in faith and thought we share,
A fellowship of pride we make our own,
And ours alone.
And England's all we say, but framed
Too big for shallow words to hold.
We tell our bit and halt, ashamed,
Feeling the things that can't be told;
And so we're one and all in camp to-night,
And come to fight.
* * * * *
"No judgment of recent years has aroused more widespread interest
than that of Mr. Justice Bargrave Deane, in which he decided that the
Slingsby baby was the son of his mother."--_Evening News._
Wonderful men our judges.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Doctor._ "YOU'LL BE ALL RIGHT NOW, AND I HAVE MUCH
PLEASURE IN RETURNING YOU THE TWO SOVEREIGNS WHICH I FOUND SHOT INTO
YOU WITH THE PURSE."
_Sergeant._ "THANK YOU, SIR; I DON'T CALL HALF A QUID DEAR FOR
DOIN' THAT JOB."
_Doctor._ "I DON'T FOLLOW YOU."
_Sergeant._ "WELL, I HAD TWO-POUND-TEN IN THAT PURSE."]
* * * * *