Claim much—oh so much, from rough manhood,—unflinching cool daring in fray,
And selflessness utter, from toilers with little of praise, and less pay.
Her heroes to get "on the cheap" from the rough rank and file of her sons
Has been England's good fortune so long, that the scribblers' swift tongue-babble runs
To the old easy tune without thought. "Gallant sea-dogs and life-savers!" Yes!
But poor driblets of lyrical praise should not be their sole guerdon, I guess.
On the coast, in the mine, at the fire, in the dark city byeways at night,
They are ready the waves, or the flames, or the bludgeoning burglar to fight.
And are we quite as ready to mark, or to fashion a fitting reward
For the coarsely-clad commonplace men who our life and our property guard?