That best, most honoured boast to make:
"My lover died for his dear land",
Or, "My son fell for England's sake".
Christlike they died that we might live;
And our redeemed lives would we bring,
With aught that gratitude may give
To serve you in your sorrowing.
And never a pathway shall ye tread,
No foot of seashore, hill, or lea,
But ye may think: "The dead, my dead,