The Land we from our fathers had in trust,
And to our children will transmit, or die:
This is our maxim, this our piety;
And God and Nature say that it is just.
That which we ‘would’ perform in arms we must!
We read the dictate in the infant’s eye;
In the wife’s smile; and in the placid sky;
And, at our feet, amid the silent dust
Of them that were before us. Sing aloud
Old songs, the precious music of the heart!
Give, herds and flocks, your voices to the wind!
While we go forth, a self-devoted crowd,
With weapons grasped in fearless hands, to assert
Our virtue, and to vindicate mankind.
Read all of William Wordsworth's poems · About William Wordsworth