Could you but see the sunrise o’er Helvellyn,
    The lights that flush its fawn to amber gold,
    Could your brave eyes but momently behold
In the far gorge whence Derwent’s stream is
    Could you but watch the daffodil unfold
    Or hear the voices that you loved of old
Where merle to merle her faith in spring is
Then Borderers—bred in ancient Cumberland,
    Sons of the shining mountains and the mere,
        Men of the fellside and the milk-white farms,
        I know the hope of morningtide would arm
Your hearts, and firm as rock your feet would
    For that new dawn’s deliverance drawing

(The European War 1914-1915 Poems, p. 193)