Deep fears long since I’ve had for England’s weal,1
Yet deeper are they now than long ago2
These bleeding wounds, O God ! I pray thee heal,3
And give the Land’s Heart once again to feel4
The joy of reflux, answering well to flow,5
In Love her life-blood ;— once again to know6
That all is sound within—that the big throng7
Of thoughts and wide affections rolls along8
Peacefully—like unto yon calm large river,9
Mild and majestic—beautiful and strong10
Far-streaming—washing with one tide serene,11
The rocky base of the old Castle ever,12
And the soft margin of the Hamlet-green,13
Whose Sycamores half hide the Spire between.14