The New Morning - Alfred Noyes - Bog

STEADFAST as any soldier of the line He served his England, with the imminent death Poised at his heart. Nor could the world divine The constant peril of each burdened breath. England, and the honour of England, he still served Walking the strict path, with the old high pride Of those invincible knights who never swerved One hair's breadth from the way until they died.