St. Georges Day. 23rd April: A Nation's Day in Verse

By Rudyard Kipling, John Keats and Percy Bysshe Shelley

Poetry is often cited as our greatest use of words. The English language has well over a million of them and poets down the ages seem, at times, to make use of every single one. But often they use them in simple ways to describe anything and everything from landscapes to all aspects of the human condition. Poems can evoke within us an individual response that takes us by surprise; that opens our ears and eyes to very personal feelings.

Forget the idea of classic poetry being somehow dull and boring. It still has life, vibrancy and relevance to our lives today.

This comes to you from Portable Poetry, a dedicated poetry publisher. We believe that poetry should be a part of our everyday lives, uplifting the soul & reaching the parts that other arts can’t. Our range of audiobooks and ebooks cover volumes on some of our greatest poets to anthologies of seasons, months, places and a wide range of themes.

This audio book is also duplicated in print as an ebook. Same title. Same words. Perhaps a different experience. But with Amazon’s whispersync you can pick up and put down on any device – start on audio, continue in print and any which way after that.

Portable Poetry – Let us join you for the journey.

St George’s Day. 23rd April

A Nation’s Day in Verse

The United States has July 4th, Ireland St Patrick’s Day and France Bastille Day. Most Nations have a day when they turn to themselves; to reflect on the past, to revel in the present and to look forward to the future.

For England 23rd April is St George’s Day.

St George, a hero from bygone days, who slays Dragons and pursues other mythic deeds, is part of childhood. But for modern times, for modern Nations, a greater purpose is needed.

For England St George is best now described as a principle. A small Nation gown large and respected for it’s brainpower, brawn and ingenuity and fighting for beliefs, misguidedly or not, that others can’t or won’t.

Of course England’s role has changed many times over the centuries but perhaps its basic tenets and desires haven’t. Fair Play. A role for everyone on equal terms. Democracy. Tolerance. A safe haven for those oppressed. England ‘expects’ and sometimes succeeds.

Perhaps William Shakespeare, the Bard himself, outlined our pride in his play Richard II:—

This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,

This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,

This other Eden, demi-paradise,

This fortress built by Nature for herself

Against infection and the hand of war,

This happy breed of men, this little world,

This precious stone set in the silver sea,

Which serves it in the office of a wall

Or as a moat defensive to a house,

Against the envy of less happier lands

This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.

And now our poets and wordsmiths have their say.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Portable Poetry
• Release date: Apr 13, 2018
• ISBN: 9781787379282

Rudyard Kipling

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936) was an English author and poet who began writing in India and shortly found his work celebrated in England. An extravagantly popular, but critically polarizing, figure even in his own lifetime, the author wrote several books for adults and children that have become classics, Kim, The Jungle Book, Just So Stories, Captains Courageous and others. Although taken to task by some critics for his frequently imperialistic stance, the author’s best work rises above his era’s politics. Kipling refused offers of both knighthood and the position of Poet Laureate, but was the first English author to receive the Nobel prize.

Book preview

Part 1

Poetry is often cited as our greatest use of words.  The English language has well over a million of them and poets down the ages seem, at times, to make use of every single one.  But often they use them in simple ways to describe anything and everything from landscapes to all aspects of the human condition.  Poems can evoke within us an individual response that takes us by surprise; that opens our ears and eyes to very personal feelings.

Forget the idea of classic poetry being somehow dull and boring. It still has life, vibrancy and relevance to our lives today.

This comes to you from Portable Poetry, a dedicated poetry publisher. We believe that poetry should be a part of our everyday lives, uplifting the soul & reaching the parts that other arts can’t.  Our range of audiobooks and ebooks cover volumes on some of our greatest poets to anthologies of seasons, months, places and a wide range of themes. 

This audio book is also duplicated in print as an ebook. Same title. Same words. Perhaps a different experience. But with Amazon’s whispersync you can pick up and put down on any device – start on audio, continue in print and any which way after that. 

Portable Poetry – Let us join you for the journey.

St George’s Day. 23rd April

A Nation’s Day in Verse

The United States has July 4th, Ireland St Patrick’s Day and France Bastille Day.  Most Nations have a day when they turn to themselves; to reflect on the past, to revel in the present and to look forward to the future.

For England 23rd April is St George’s Day. 

St George, a hero from bygone days, who slays Dragons and pursues other mythic deeds, is part of childhood.  But for modern times, for modern Nations, a greater purpose is needed. 

For England St George is best now described as a principle.  A small Nation gown large and respected for it’s brainpower, brawn and ingenuity and fighting for beliefs, misguidedly or not, that others can’t or won’t.

Of course England’s role has changed many times over the centuries but perhaps its basic tenets and desires haven’t.  Fair Play. A role for everyone on equal terms. Democracy.  Tolerance. A safe haven for those oppressed.  England ‘expects’ and sometimes succeeds.

Perhaps William Shakespeare, the Bard himself, outlined our pride in his play Richard II:—

This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,

This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,

This other Eden, demi-paradise,

This fortress built by Nature for herself

Against infection and the hand of war,

This happy breed of men, this little world,

This precious stone set in the silver sea,

Which serves it in the office of a wall

Or as a moat defensive to a house,

Against the envy of less happier lands,

This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.

And now our poets and wordsmiths have their say.

Happy Is England by John Keats

Happy is England! I could be content

To see no other verdure than its own;

To feel no other breezes than are blown

Through its tall woods with high romances blent:

Yet do I sometimes feel a languishment

For skies Italian, and an inward groan

To sit upon an Alp as on a throne,

And half forget what world or worldling meant.

Happy is England, sweet her artless daughters;

Enough their simple loveliness for me,

Enough their whitest arms in silence clinging:

Yet do I often warmly burn to see

Beauties of deeper glance, and hear their singing,

And float with them abovehe summer waters.

The English Flag by Rudyard Kipling

Above the portico a flag-staff, bearing the Union Jack, remained fluttering in the flames for some time, but ultimately when it fell the crowds rent the air with shouts, and seemed to see significance in the incident.

— DAILY PAPERS

Winds of the World, give answer! They are whimpering to and fro—

And what should they know of England who only England know?—

The poor little street-bred people that vapour and fume and brag,

They are lifting their heads in the stillness to yelp at the English Flag!

Must we borrow a clout from the Boer—to plaster anew with dirt?

An Irish liar’s bandage, or an English coward’s shirt?

We may not speak of England; her Flag’s to sell or share.

What is the Flag of England? Winds of the World, declare!

The North Wind blew:—"From Bergen my steel-shod vanguards go;

I chase your lazy whalers home from the Disko floe;

By the great North Lights above me I work the will of God,

And the liner splits on the ice-field or the Dogger fills with cod.

"I barred my gates with iron, I shuttered my doors with flame,

Because to force my ramparts your nutshell navies came;

I took the sun from their presence, I cut them down with my blast,

And they died, but the Flag of England blew free ere the spirit passed.

"The lean white bear hath seen it in the long, long Arctic night,

The musk-ox knows the standard that flouts the Northern Light:

What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my bergs to dare,

Ye have but my drifts to conquer. Go forth, for it is there!"

The South Wind sighed:—"From the Virgins my mid-sea course was taken

Over a thousand islands lost in an idle main,

Where the sea-egg flames on the coral and the long-backed breakers croon

Their endless ocean legends to the lazy, locked lagoon.

"Strayed amid lonely islets, mazed amid outer keys,

I waked the palms to laughter—I tossed the scud in the breeze—

Never was isle so little, never was sea so lone,

But over the scud and the palm-trees an English flag was flown.

"I have wrenched it free from the halliard to hang for a wisp on the Horn;

I have chased it north to the Lizard—ribboned and rolled and torn;

I have spread its fold o’er the dying, adrift in a hopeless sea;

I have hurled it swift on the slaver, and seen the slave set free.

"My basking sunfish know it, and wheeling albatross,

Where the lone wave fills with fire beneath the Southern Cross.

What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my reefs to dare,

Ye have but my seas to furrow. Go forth, for it is there!"

The East Wind roared:—"From the Kuriles, the Bitter Seas, I come,

And me men call the Home-Wind, for I bring the English home.

Look—look well to your shipping! By the breath of my mad typhoon

I swept your close-packed Praya and beached your best at Kowloon!

"The reeling junks behind me and the racing seas before,

I raped your richest roadstead—I plundered Singapore!

I set my hand on the Hoogli; as a hooded snake she rose,

And I flung your stoutest steamers to roost with the startled crows.

"Never the lotus closes, never the wild-fowl wake,

But a soul goes out on the East Wind that died for England’s sake—

Man or woman or suckling, mother or bride or maid—

Because on the bones of the English the English Flag is stayed.

"The desert-dust hath dimmed it, the flying wild-ass knows,

The scared white leopard winds it across the taintless snows.

What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my sun to dare,

Ye have but my sands to travel. Go forth, for it is there!"

The West Wind called:—"In squadrons the thoughtless galleons fly

That bear the wheat and cattle lest street-bred people