VII
Ah, haply we, the native-born,
And sprung of grandsires native too,
Proud of soul this stately morn
Would with his fame one race, one land indue;
Would claim him ours, and ours alone,
Flesh of our flesh, bone of our bone,
Inseparably our own!
Ours by the English name,
And that old England whence his forebears came,
And that dear English of his tongue and pen;
Mightier successor of our most mighty men;
Ours, by his birth beneath our western sky,
Ours, by the flag he died to save,
Ours, by the home-fields of his labour, and by
The home-earth of his grave!