WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT
25 Gibraltar
SEVEN weeks of sea, and twice seven days of storm Upon the huge Atlantic, and once more We ride into still water and the calm Of a sweet evening, screened by either shore Of Spain and Barbary. Our toils are o'er, Our exile is accomplished. Once again We look on Europe, mistress as of yore Of the fair earth and of the hearts of men.
Ay, this is the famed rock which Hercules And Goth and Moor bequeathed us. At this door England stands sentry. God' to hear the shrill Sweet treble of her fifes upon the breeze, And at the summons of the rock gun's roar To see her red coats marching from the hill'
��826 The Old Squire
LIKE the hunting of the hare Better than that of the fox; I like the joyous morning air, And the crowing of the cocks.
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��I like the calm of the early fields, The ducks asleep by the lake,
The quiet hour which Nature yields, Before mankind is awake.
I like the pheasants and feeding things
Of the unsuspicious morn ; I like the flap of the wood-pigeon's wings
As she rises from the corn.
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