大象传媒

(Note:- Norman Charlton was a sergeant in the Royal Artillery: he was killed in action at El-Alamein on 27 June 1942. This poem, which he wrote in the months before his death, is offered at the request of his widow, Mrs. Madge Charlton)

ENGLAND

When first we sailed across the seas
The weeks that followed brought no ease
For land we sought that could compare
With England's isle so rich and fair.
But, land for days was very rare
T'was nought like England there.

Our ship gained port in tropic land
And palms grew there along each strand.
But though with int'rest we could see
Most curious things that ever be
There lacked the landscape of the free.
T'was nought like England there.

So on we passed across the foam
Each scorching day more miles from home
When Durban shone across the main
Joy in our hearts could we scarce contain.
But, the exiles there would England fain
T'was nought like England there.

The land of Pharoahs next we went
Like hounds upon a still warm scent
But, here was land where nothing grew
And raging sandstorms often blew
The joyful hearts just here were few
T'was nought like England there.

We questioned now where our ship drifts
Could we find land with England's gifts?
When on the Meddy blue we spied
"Tis Cyprus" all as one we cried
And tho' in every nook we pryed
T'was nought like England there.

Still on we go o'er miles and miles
Sometimes with frowns but more oft with smiles
Through every land where we are whirled
No matter what flag is unfurled
We know that in this whole wide world
There's but one England there.
END

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