Our fathers died for England at the outposts of the world;
Our mothers toiled for England where the settlers' smoke upcurled;
By packet, steam and rail,
By portage, trek and trail,
They bore a thing called Honour in hearts that did not quail,
Till the twelve great winds of heaven saw the scarlet sign unfurled. And little did they leave us of fame or land or gold;
Yet they gave us great possessions in a heritage untold;
For they said, 'Ye shall be clean,
Nor ever false or mean,
For God and for your country and the honour of your Queen,
Till ye meet the death that waits you with your plighted faith unsold'.
Canadian-American author (1861–1929)
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