Written August 10th 1914
From crowded city
From lonely plains,
From northern highland,
From circling mains;
England, arise!
Fishermen, leave the oar,
Hind, the flock-feeding,
Scholar, your book no more,
Lover, your pleading;
England, arise!
Quarrels afar, be thrown,
Envies, aside laid,
On England’s altar-stones,
Be all our pride laid;
England, arise!
Strong man and woman fair,
Younger and older,
Let each war’s burden bear,
Shoulder to shoulder;
England, arise!
When might disowneth right,
Shall we stand idle?
Bids us not honour bright
War to unbridle?
England, arise!
Aye though the war blast blow
Sorrow and pain for us,
Bear them, for only so
Peace shall yet reign for us;
England, arise!
The All-Father God on high,
All hearts who knoweth,
Even when His children sigh,
His peace bestoweth;
England, arise!
R.E.L.
Banbury Guardian, August 1914