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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=413289" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Canada To England</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">GONE are the days, old Warrior of the Seas,<br>When thine armed head, bent low to catch my voice,<br>Caught but the plaintive sighings of my woods,<br>And the wild roar of rock-dividing streams,<br>And the loud bellow of my cataracts,<br>Bridged with the seven splendours of the bow.<br>When Nature was a Samson yet unshorn,<br>Filling the land with solitary might,<br>Or as the Angel of the Apocalypse,<br>One foot upon the primeval bowered land,<br>One foot upon the white mane of the sea,<br>My voice but faintly swelled the ebb and flow<br>Of the wild tides and storms that beat upon<br>Thy rocky girdle,-loud shrieking from the Ind<br>Ambrosial-breathing furies; from the north<br>Thundering with Arctic bellows, groans of seas<br>Rising from tombs of ice disrupted by<br>The magic kisses of the wide-eyed sun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The times have won a change. Nature no more<br>Lords it alone and binds the lonely land<br>A serf to tongueless solitudes; but Nature's self<br>Is led, glad captive, in light fetters rich<br>As music-sounding silver can adorn;<br>And man has forged them, and our silent God<br>Behind His flaming worlds smiles on the deed.<br>'Man hath dominion'-words of primal might;<br>'Man hath dominion'-thus the words of God.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If destiny is writ on night's dusk scroll,<br>Then youngest stars are dropping from the hand<br>Of the Creator, sowing on the sky<br>My name in seeds of light. Ages will watch<br>Those seeds expand to suns, such as the tree<br>Bears on its boughs, which grows in Paradise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How sounds my voice, my warrior kinsman, now?<br>Sounds it not like to thine in lusty youth-<br>A world-possessing shout of busy men,<br>Veined with the clang of trumpets and the noise<br>Of those who make them ready for the strife,<br>And in the making ready bruise its head?<br>Sounds it not like to thine-the whispering vine,<br>The robe of summer rustling thro' the fields,<br>The lowing of the cattle in the meads,<br>The sound of Commerce, and the music-set,<br>Flame-brightened step of Art in stately halls,-<br>All the infinity of notes which chord<br>The diapason of a Nation's voice?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My infants' tongues lisp word for word with thine;<br>We worship, wed, and die, and God is named<br>That way ye name Him,-strong bond between<br>Two mighty lands when as one mingled cry,<br>As of one voice, Jehovah turns to hear.<br>The bonds between us are no subtle links<br>Of subtle minds binding in close embrace,<br>Half-struggling for release, two alien lands,<br>But God's own seal of kindred, which to burst<br>Were but to dash his benediction from<br>Our brows. 'Who loveth not his kin,<br>Whose face and voice are his, how shall he love<br>God whom he hath not seen?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Isabella+Valancy+Crawford">Isabella Valancy Crawford</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=413289" data-title="Canada To England de Isabella Valancy Crawford" data-description="GONE are the days, old Warrior of the Seas,
When thine armed head, bent low to catch my voice,
Caught but the plaintive sighings of my woods,
And the wild roar of rock-dividing streams,
And the loud bellow of my cataracts,
Bridged with the seven s..."></div>
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