So Britain’s monarch once uncovered sat,While Bradshaw bullied in a broad-brimmed hat.
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O ye by wandering tempest sown’Neath every alien star,Forget not whence the breath was blownThat wafted you afar!For ye are still her ancient seedOn younger soil let fall—Children of Britain’s island-breed,To whom the Mother in her needPerchance may one day call.
william watson