Reveillé shot from sea to sea, from wave-washed shire to shire,
Inland, from hill to hill, it flashed wherever English hand
Helpful at need in English cause could grip an English brand.
To-day? Well, round our jutting cliffs, across our hollowing bays
Thicker the light-ship beacons flash, the lighthouse lanterns blaze.
From sweep to sweep, from steep to steep, our shores are starred with light,
Burning across the briny floods through the black mirk of night,
Forth-gleaming like the eyes of Hope, or like the fires of Home,
Upon the eager eyes of men far-straining o'er the foam.
Good! But how greatly less than good to fear, to think, to know