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About this poet

Henry van Dyke was born on November 10, 1852. He graduated from the College of New Jersey in 1873 and from Princeton Theological Seminary in 1877. He served as a pastor in Rhode Island and New York City for many years before becoming a professor of English at Princeton University in 1900. Van Dyke was the author of The Red Flower: Poems Written in War Time (Copp Clark Co., 1917) as well as numerous books of sermons, essays, and fiction. He died in Princeton, New Jersey, on April 10, 1933.

Stand Fast

           Stand fast, Great Britain!
Together England, Scotland, Ireland stand
One in the faith that makes a mighty land,—
True to the bond you have and will not break
And fearless in the fight for conscience’ sake!
Against the Giant Robber clad in steel,
With blood of trampled Belgium on his heel,
Striding through France to strike you down at last
           Britain, stand fast!

           Stand fast, brave land!
The Huns are thundering toward the citadel;
They prate of Culture but their path is Hell;
Their light is darkness, and the bloody sword
They wield and worship is their only Lord.
O land where reason stands secure on right,
O land where freedom is the source of light,
Against the mailed Barbarians’ deadly blast,
           Britain, stand fast!

           Stand fast, dear land!
Thou island mother of a world-wide race,
Whose children speak thy tongue and love thy face,
Their hearts and hopes are with thee in the strife,
Their hands will break the sword that seeks thy life;
Fight on until the Teuton madness cease;
Fight bravely on, until the word of peace
Is spoken in the English tongue at last,—
           Britain, stand fast!

This poem is in the public domain.

This poem is in the public domain.

Henry van Dyke

Henry van Dyke

Henry van Dyke was born on November 10, 1852. The author of The Red Flower: Poems Written in War Time (Copp Clark Co., 1917) as well as numerous books of sermons, essays, and fiction, he died in 1933.

by this poet

poem
Peace without Justice is a low estate,—
A coward cringing to an iron Fate!
But Peace through Justice is the great ideal,—
We’ll pay the price of war to make it real.

poem
If Might made Right, life were a wild-beasts’ cage;
If Right made Might, this were the golden age;
But now, until we win the long campaign,
Right must gain Might to conquer and to reign.

poem

You dare to say with perjured lips, 
    "We fight to make the ocean free"? 
You, whose black trail of butchered ships 
    Bestrews the bed of every sea 
    Where German submarines have wrought 
    Their horrors! Have you never thought,—
What you call freedom, men call