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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341414" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Look Seaward, Sentinel!</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I<br>Look seaward, Sentinel, and tell the land<br>What you behold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sentinel <br>I see the deep-ploughed furrows of the main<br>Bristling with harvest; funnel, and keel, and shroud,<br>Heaving and hurrying hither through gale and cloud,<br>Winged by their burdens; argosies of grain,<br>Flocks of strange breed and herds of southern strain,<br>Fantastic stuffs and fruits of tropic bloom,<br>Antarctic fleece and equatorial spice,<br>Cargoes of cotton, and flax, and silk, and rice,<br>Food for the hearth and staples for the loom:<br>Huge vats of sugar, casks of wine and oil,<br>Summoned from every sea to one sole shore<br>By Empire's sceptre; the converging store<br>Of Trade's pacific universal spoil.<br>And heaving and hurrying hitherward to bring<br>Tribute from every zone, they lift their voices,<br>And, as a strong man revels and rejoices,<br>They loudly and lustily chant, and this the song they sing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Chorus of Home-coming Ships <br>From the uttermost bound<br>Of the wind and the foam,<br>From creek and from sound,<br>We are hastening home.<br>We are laden with treasure<br>From ransacked seas,<br>To charm your leisure,<br>To grace your ease.<br>We have trodden the billows,<br>And tracked the ford,<br>To soften your pillows,<br>To heap your board.<br>The hills have been shattered,<br>The forests scattered,<br>Our white sails tattered,<br>To swell your hoard.<br>Is it blossom, or fruit, or<br>Seed, you crave?<br>The land is your suitor,<br>The sea your slave.<br>We have raced with the swallows,<br>And threaded the floes<br>Where the walrus wallows<br>Mid melting snows;<br>Sought regions torrid,<br>And realms of sleet,<br>To gem your forehead,<br>To swathe your feet.<br>And behold, now we tender,<br>With pennons unfurled,<br>For your comfort and splendour,<br>The wealth of the world.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II<br>Look landward, Sentinel, and tell the sea<br>What you behold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sentinel <br>I see a land of liberty and peace,<br>Ancient in glory and strength, but young in mien,<br>Like immemorial forest Spring makes green,<br>And whose boughs broaden as the years increase:<br>Where ruminating hide and grazing fleece<br>Dapple lush meadows diapered with flowers,<br>Lambs bleat, birds carol, rosy children roam,<br>The glad hind whistles as he wendeth home,<br>And red roofs nestle under gray church-towers:<br>Whose sons have in their fearless eyes the light<br>Of centuries of fame and battles won<br>And Empire ranging roundward with the sun;<br>Whose fair frank daughters gleam upon the sight<br>Fresh as the dawn and florid as the Spring;<br>And, as from lowly porch and lordly dwelling<br>They sally forth and meet, with voices swelling<br>Harmoniously they chant, and this the song they sing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Chorus of Islanders <br>Blest be the cliffs and the crags that girdle<br>Our island home,<br>And blest, thrice blest, the tempests that scourge and curdle<br>The sea into foam.<br>For the nations over the wave eat, sleep, and labour,<br>In doubt and dread;<br>The spear is the child at their threshold, the naked sabre<br>The bride by their bed.<br>But we behind bulwarks of brine and rampart of breakers,<br>Year after year,<br>Drop the seed in the drill and the furrow, and harvest our acres,<br>And feel no fear.<br>While they wattle their flocks, and remember the past, and shudder,<br>And finger the sword,<br>Our lambs go safe to the ewes, our calves to the udder,<br>Our fruits to the board.<br>Welcome the sleet that blinds and the blasts that buffet,<br>And welcome the roar<br>Of the storms that swoop on the sea and rend and rough it<br>Around our shore.<br>For in safety the yearling fattens, the heifer browses,<br>The herds increase;<br>In safety we fondle our babes, in safety our spouses,<br>In safety, freedom, and peace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III<br>Look again seaward, but beyond the sea,<br>And say what you behold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sentinel <br>I see weeping and wailing, and the bridegroom ruthlessly torn<br>From the clinging arms of the bride, and I see and I hear<br>Clanking of steel and clarions clamouring clear,<br>And suckling mothers, wedded but forlorn,<br>Cradling their babes amid the half-cut corn;<br>Whose fathers, as the homely days grew ripe<br>When fruits are plucked and mellow harvest stored,<br>Felt the soft curving sickle from their gripe<br>Timelessly wrenched, and in its place a sword.<br>And I see the nations, like to restless waves,<br>Surging against each other, withal afraid<br>To close and clash, lest blade prove strong as blade,<br>And even the victor win but worthless graves.<br>And, wearying of the days and nights that bring<br>No respite nor reward, they moan and murmur<br>Under their breath, until with accents firmer<br>They sadly and surlily chant, and this the song they sing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Chorus of Armed Nations <br>How long shall we, we only, bear the burden<br>And sweat beneath the strain<br>Of iron Peace, while others gain the guerdon,<br>And prosper on our pain?<br>Lo! in their fancied fortress girt with waters<br>That neither fall nor fail,<br>They hear of rapine and they read of slaughters,<br>As of some touching tale.<br>No more they care to subjugate the billow,<br>Or dominate the blast;<br>Supine they lie on the luxurious pillow<br>Of their resplendent Past.<br>Lulled into arrogant languor by the glories<br>Of their adventurous sires,<br>They tell each other old heroic stories<br>By comfortable fires.<br>Why should they pile up wealth who do not labour?<br>Why, sowing not, should reap?<br>Let us steal out, and with unslumbering sabre<br>Assassinate their sleep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Look again landward, Sentinel, and say<br>What there you now behold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sentinel <br>I see the sports deserted on the green,<br>And song and revel hushed within the hall;<br>And I hear strong voices to strong voices call<br>To muster round the shore in martial sheen.<br>And north of Trent and south of Thames are seen<br>Furnace and forge and factory vomiting fire,<br>While swarthy faces, labouring through the night,<br>On giant anvils giant hammers smite,<br>From molten metal moulding hoop and tire.<br>In port and arsenal rhythmic thunders ring,<br>And through their gateways laden tumbrils rattle;<br>And England's sinewy striplings, trim for battle,<br>In unison cheer and chant, and this the song they sing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Chorus of Islanders <br>Sweet are the ways of peace, and sweet<br>The gales that fan the foam<br>That sports with silvery-twinkling feet<br>Around our island home.<br>But, should the winds of battle shrill,<br>And the billows crisp their mane,<br>Down to the shore, from vale, from hill,<br>From hamlet, town, and plain!<br>The ocean our forefathers trod<br>In many a forest keel,<br>Shall feel our feet once more, but shod<br>With ligaments of steel.<br>Ours is the Sea, to rule, to keep,<br>Our realm, and, if ye would<br>Challenge dominion of the deep,<br>Then make that challenge good.<br>But ware ye lest your vauntings proud<br>Be coffined in the surge,<br>Our breakers be for you a shroud,<br>Our battle-song your dirge.<br>Peaceful within our peaceful home<br>We ply the loom and share,<br>Peaceful above the peaceful foam<br>Our pennons float and fare;<br>Bearing, for other peaceful lands,<br>Through sunshine, storm, and snow,<br>The harvest of industrious hands<br>Peacefully to and fro.<br>But, so ye will it, then our sails<br>The blasts of war shall swell,<br>And hold and hulk, now choked with bales,<br>Be crammed with shot and shell.<br>The waves impregnably shall bear<br>Our bulwarks on their breast,<br>And eyes of steel unsleeping glare<br>Across each billowy crest;<br>Along the trenches of the deep<br>Unflinching faces shine,<br>And Britain's stalwart sailors keep<br>The bastions of the brine.<br>Ocean itself, from strand to strand,<br>Our citadel shall be,<br>And, though the world together band,<br>Not all the legions of the land<br>Shall ever wrest from England's hand<br>The Sceptre of the Sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alfred+Austin">Alfred Austin</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341414" data-title="Look Seaward, Sentinel! de Alfred Austin" data-description="I
Look seaward, Sentinel, and tell the land
What you behold.

Sentinel 
I see the deep-ploughed furrows of the main
Bristling with harvest; funnel, and keel, and shroud,
Heaving and hurrying hither through gale and cloud,
Winged by their burdens; ..."></div>
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