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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=529150" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>England</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=529150" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">While men pay reverence to mighty things,<br>They must revere thee, thou blue-cinctured isle<br>Of England-not to-day, but this long while<br>In front of nations, Mother of great kings,<br>Soldiers, and poets. Round thee the sea flings<br>His steel-bright arm, and shields thee from the guile<br>And hurt of France. Secure, with august smile,<br>Thou sittest, and the East its tribute brings.<br>Some say thy old-time power is on the wane,<br>Thy moon of grandeur, filled, contracts at length-<br>They see it darkening down from less to less.<br>Let but a hostile hand make threat again,<br>And they shall see thee in thy ancient strength,<br>Each iron sinew quivering, lioness!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Thomas+Bailey+Aldrich">Thomas Bailey Aldrich</a></strong></div>

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