Some Rise By Sin, And

I See You Stand Like Greyhounds In The Slips, Straining Upon The Start. The Game's Afoot; Follow Your Spirit: And Upon This Charge, Cry — God For Harry! England And Saint George!

Who Are The Violets Now That Strew The Lap Of The New-come Spring?

In Thy Face I See The Map Of Honour, Truth And Loyalty.

Swift As Shadow, Short As Any Dream

I Love You More Than Word Can Wield The Matter, Dearer Than Eye-sight, Space And Liberty