| Higginson and Bigelow, comps. American Sonnets. 1891. | | | | At Gibraltar (I.) | | By George Edward Woodberry (1855–1930) |
| | | ENGLAND, I stand on thy imperial ground, | |
| Not all a stranger; as thy bugles blow, | |
| I feel within my blood old battles flow— | |
| The blood whose ancient founts in thee are found. | |
| Still surging dark against the Christian bound | 5 |
| Wide Islam presses; well its peoples know | |
| Thy heights that watch them wandering below; | |
| I think how Lucknow heard their gathering sound. | |
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| I turn, and meet the cruel, turbaned face. | |
| England, ’t is sweet to be so much thy son! | 10 |
| I feel the conqueror in my blood and race; | |
| Last night Trafalgar awed me, and to-day | |
| Gibraltar wakened; hark, thy evening gun | |
| Startles the desert over Africa! | | | | |
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