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Ontario Readers Third Book, The

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<h2>ENGLAND'S DEAD</h2> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> Son of the Ocean Isle! Where sleep your mighty dead? Show me what high and stately pile Is reared o'er Glory's bed. </div> <div class="stanza"> Go, stranger! track the deep— Free, free, the white sail spread! Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep, Where rest not England's dead. </div> <div class="stanza"> On Egypt's burning plains, By the pyramid o'erswayed, With fearful power the noonday reigns, And the palm trees yield no shade;— </div> <div class="stanza"> But let the angry sun From heaven look fiercely red, Unfelt by those whose task is done!— There slumber England's dead. </div> <div class="stanza"> The hurricane hath might Along the Indian shore, And far by Ganges' banks at night, Is heard the tiger's roar;— </div> <div class="stanza"> But let the sound roll on! It hath no tone of dread For those that from their toils are gone,— There slumber England's dead. </div> <div class="stanza"> Loud rush the torrent-floods The Western wilds among, And free, in green Columbia's woods, The hunter's bow is strung;— </div> <div class="stanza"> But let the floods rush on! Let the arrow's flight be sped! Why should they reck whose task is done?— There slumber England's dead. </div> <div class="stanza"> The mountain-storms rise high In the snowy Pyrenees, And toss the pine-boughs through the sky Like rose-leaves on the breeze;— </div> <div class="stanza"> But let the storm rage on! Let the fresh wreaths be shed! For the Roncesvalles' field is won,— There slumber England's dead. </div> <div class="stanza"> On the frozen deep's repose 'Tis a dark and dreadful hour, When round the ship the ice-fields close, And the northern night-clouds lower;— </div> <div class="stanza"> But let the ice drift on! Let the cold-blue desert spread! Their course with mast and flag is done, Even there sleep England's dead. </div> <div class="stanza"> The warlike of the isles, The men of field and wave! Are not the rocks their funeral piles, The seas and shores their grave? </div> <div class="stanza"> Go, stranger! track the deep— Free, free the white sail spread! Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep, Where rest not England's dead. </div> </div> Felicia Hemans <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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