by Robert Laurence Binyon
As over English earth I gaze,
Bare down, deep lane, and coppice--crowned
Green hill, and distance lost in blue
Horizon of this homely ground,
A light that glows as from within
Seems glorifying leaf and grass
And every simple wayside flower
That knows not how to say Alas!
O Light, by which we live and move,
Shine through us now, one living whole
With dear earth! Arm us from within
For this last Battle of the Soul!
Last updated January 14, 2019