<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344231" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ballade Of The Southern Cross</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fair islands of the silver fleece,<br>Hoards of unsunned, uncounted gold,<br>Whose havens are the haunts of Peace,<br>Whose boys are in our quarrel bold;<br>OUR bolt is shot, our tale is told,<br>Our ship of state in storms may toss,<br>But ye are young if we are old,<br>Ye Islands of the Southern Cross!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ay, WE must dwindle and decrease,<br>Such fates the ruthless years unfold;<br>And yet we shall not wholly cease,<br>We shall not perish unconsoled;<br>Nay, still shall Freedom keep her hold<br>Within the sea's inviolate fosse,<br>And boast her sons of English mould,<br>Ye Islands of the Southern Cross!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All empires tumble--Rome and Greece -<br>Their swords are rust, their altars cold!<br>For us, the Children of the Seas,<br>Who ruled where'er the waves have rolled,<br>For us, in Fortune's books enscrolled,<br>I read no runes of hopeless loss;<br>Nor--while YE last--our knell is tolled,<br>Ye Islands of the Southern Cross!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">ENVOY.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Britannia, when thy hearth's a-cold,<br>When o'er thy grave has grown the moss,<br>Still Rule Australia shall be trolled<br>In Islands of the Southern Cross!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Andrew+Lang">Andrew Lang</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=344231" data-title="Ballade Of The Southern Cross de Andrew Lang" data-description="Fair islands of the silver fleece, Hoards of unsunned, uncounted gold, Whose havens are the haunts of Peace, Whose boys are in our quarrel bold; OUR bolt is shot, our tale is told, Our ship of state in storms may toss, But ye are young if we are o..."></div> </div> </div>

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