HEARKEN, O Mother, hearken to thy daughter!
Fain would I tell thee what men tell to me,
Saying that henceforth no more on any water
Shall I be first or great or loved or free,
But that these others—so the tale is spoken—
Who have not known thee all these centuries
By fire and sword shall yet turn England broken
Back from thy breast and beaten from thy seas,
Me—whom thou barest where they waves should
Me—whom thou suckled'st on thy milk of foam,
Me—whom thy kisses shaped what while they
To whom thy storms are sweet and ring of
"Behold," they cry, "she is grown soft and
All her proud memories changed to fear and
Say, thou, who hast watched through ages that are
Whom have I feared, and when did I forget?