<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="center" class="head">"The Exiles."</h1><div class="stanza"><p class="line">NOT the remembered scent of English air </p><p class="line">In thawing fields, nor English melodies, </p><p class="line">Nor song of English birds in English skies</p><p class="line">Can make this England. All our house is bare;</p><p class="line">Our lives are stopped; our hearts are other-where,</p><p class="line">As homesick travellers whose impatient eyes </p><p class="line">See only aliens: for all England lies</p><p class="line">Where you have set your honour and her care.</p><p class="line"></p><p class="line">The earshot of your bugle-calls at morn </p><p class="line">Tells England's measure now; her history </p><p class="line">Is in your undistinguished graves compressed </p><p class="line">Your deeds are all her life, your sleep her rest </p><p class="line">You are her only citizens, and we</p><p class="line">Are exiles in the place where we were born.</p></div><p class="byline">George Kelly.</p>(The <em>British Review>, May, 1915</em></body></html> · Great War