In voyage, the quiescent guardian – before rampart, as stand these towering bastions of English shore. We sail in delivery, a restitution of endurance, in refuge from pernicious storm.
Come tide in surge with rolling billow – this deference of recompense, placid in repose. Now returned, gilt with fondness, the sanctity of faithful reverence – a legion without grail.
What price the blood of man? – In martyrdom, the reversion of the subjugated, with heart lost and given to sin. As those who rest, haunted yet haunting, without redemption and yet given to fire. Who shall call their name, who will remember?
This longing as soon in gladness, yet still with burden kept. Cursed this memory, these deeds and changing heart, I plead the clemency of grace.
In whispers now, beyond the fallen, on summer breeze with crush of blooming rose. Near thy love, as beats this heart with fervent charge, the rapture of salvation. Your pulchritude, a vision of glory, your courage embattled and yet unbroken.
My conscience, as vested in you – your forgiveness, the light. You are purity, without corruption, the defender of all dreams.
These lanes upon peregrination, as pastures green of nation kept. In tread, as march upon meander, my thoughts again adrift – as closer my heart to thee.
And come arrival – the smoke and thatch as when I left, while cherry blossom break free. I tread once more the joy of being and hail in greeting, your grace. – Your loving arms and warm embrace, your touch so warm and tender.
Awash, in tears, swept by hunger and lost to the union of souls – two halves become whole. As comes the night, day will follow and time with love shall bring – with tears, your touch, these moments, this time, my heart – healed!
I shall not bow before the recrudescence of hate but by this sword protect. You are my home, my church and to you, I give worship.
As gone all trespass and upon this soil – in return of holy England!