Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3816/The Call of England
[Every lover of England is bound to give what he can spare—and something more—for the help of those who may suffer distress through the War. Gifts to the National Relief Fund should be addressed to H.R.H. The Prince of Wales, at Buckingham Palace.]
Come, all ye who love her well,
Ye whose hopes are one with hers,
One with hers the hearts that swell
When the pulse of memory stirs;
She from whom your life ye take
Claims you; how can you forget?
Come, your honour stands at stake!
Pay your debt!
By her sons that hold the deep,
Nerves at strain and sinews tense,
Sleepless-eyed that ye may sleep
Girdled in a fast defence;—
By her sons that face the fire
Where the battle-lines are set—
Give your country her desire!
Pay your debt!'
He that, leaving child and wife
In our keeping, unafraid,
Goes to dare the deadly strife,
Shall he see his trust betrayed?
Shall he come again and find
Hollow cheeks and eyelids wet?
Guard them as your kith and kind!
Pay your debt!
Sirs, we should be shamed indeed
If the bitter cry for bread,
Children's cries in cruel need,
Rose and fell uncomforted!
Ah, but since the patriot glow
Burns in English bosoms yet,
Twice and thrice ye will, I know,
Pay your debt!