The Day

How shall it break —this dawn beyond forgetting?
Out of grey skies shall just the same rose red
Signal a day like that which ere its setting
Gave us the seas to hold — and Nelson dead?

Then, even as now, strife filled the earth's four quarters.
And Might seemed Right and God was challenged;
Then even as now upon the dim blue waters
The Fleet kept watch — the Fleet that Nelson led.

Dead is the Admiral; all the ships he won with
Are scrapped—forgotten; and the doubters say
Though he still lived, his skill is passed and done with
And none may tell the outcome of this day.

Since from high Heaven itself Death may come sailing
Suddenly, and from waters smooth and clear
Sharper than from a gun's mouth, Hell starts hailing,
And ere the foe be seen, the doom is near.

Aye, but remember ye when doubts come creeping
That not his seacraft only Nelson left —
Things nobler far he gave his men in keeping
That should avail them though all else were reft—

Things that Time cannot fashion and unfashion
The fearless faith that love of freedom gives. . . .
The fire, the inextinguishable passion,
The will to die ... so only England lives. . . .

Watch an ye will and pray — no prayer forgetting —
For the brave hearts on yon dim waters rocked;
But fear not for the end of that sun-setting —
The fire burns on — faith wins—God is not mocked.