She stands a thousand-wintered tree 
By countless morns impearled; 
Her broad roots coil beneath the sea, 
Her branches sweep the world ; 
Her seeds, by careless winds conveyed, 
Clothe the remotest strand 
With forests from her scatterings made, 
New nations fostered in her shade 
And linking land with land. 

O ye by wandering tempest sown 
'Neath every alien star, 
Forget not whence the breath was blown 
That wafted you afar ! 
For ye are still her ancient seed 
On younger soil let fall -- 
Children of Britain's island-breed, 
To whom the Mother in her need 
Perchance may one day call.