| George Herbert Clarke, ed. (1873–1953). A Treasury of War Poetry. 1917. |
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| 96. The Challenge of the Guns |
| | | By A. N. Field |
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| BY day, by night, along the lines their dull boom rings, | |
| And that reverberating roar its challenge flings. | |
| Not only unto thee across the narrow sea, | |
| But from the loneliest vale in the last land’s heart | |
| The sad-eyed watching mother sees her sons depart. | 5 |
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| And freighted full the tumbling waters of ocean are | |
| With aid for England from England’s sons afar. | |
| The glass is dim; we see not wisely, fax, nor well, | |
| But bred of English bone, and reared on Freedom’s wine, | |
| All that we have and are we lay on England’s shrine. | 10 |
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