FRANCE

Great ever, with the hope that seeks the stars;

The brain clear-cold, like ice; the soul like flame;

The spirit beating at the physical bars;

The reason guiding all — oh, there we name

France!

A country that can think, and thinking, acts;

A country that can act, and acting, dreams;

That neither bears the tyranny of facts,

Nor of its own dear hopes, nor of what seems,

But still, clear-visioned, treats with things that are;

Yet — seer, prophet, priest of life-to-be —

Leaps to the visionary days afar,

And all the splendour she will never see.

School of the spirit, chastening, yet a spur

For all that men aspire to: as of old

Athens held up the torch, and did incur

Persia, with her fierce armies manifold,

So France against the evil strikes and strives

For liberty, and we of island race,

— Humbled a little by our careless lives —

Glory to stand beside her in our place,

Glory that we are one in hope and aim

With her from whom in blood and agony

The second gift of human freedom came

Through Terror and the red Gethsemane.

On her fair, ravaged borders stand her guns,

She has thrown away the scabbards, bared the swords,

And, snatching laughter out of death, her sons

Challenge high Fate to show what life affords —

France!