What strange fantastic sights would meet thine eyes?
What horrors being wrought by lust for power?
The dire results of greed, and hate and lies.
No glaring lights dispel the gath'ring gloom.
No merry chatter from the evening throng.
O'er all is cast the fear of impending doom,
But through it all, England still stands strong.
Thy soul shall guide us like the Northern Star,
To help us rid the seas of unseen foes
That strike, then flee, beneath the waves afar,
To leave their victims struggling in Neptune's throes.
Rise up! lead us onward once again,
And make this world a home for peaceful men.
Photo: WWII ship, HMS Belfast, refurbished & docked in London (iStockphoto)
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Thank you for commenting on my Dad's poem.