id	author	title	date	pages	extension	mime	words	sentences	flesch	summary	cache	txt
35922	Thompson, Francis	Victorian Ode for Jubilee Day, 1897			.txt	text/plain	1751	132	91	The long Victorian line that passed with printless tread. Came on disranked; Song's hand was in his hair, Came they that kept our England's sea-swept hem, And those great dead of the Victorian line. For England feels them in her blood like wine. Their thews it is, England, that lift thy sword, They are the splendour, England, in thy song, And this, O England, is thine All Souls' Day. And let thy vales make haste to be more green And let thy trees clap all their leafy hands, And let thy flowers be gladder far of hue And like our spirits cast forth lively gleams: And let this day hear only peaceful din. Thou art the fear of England to her foemen, And this thy glorious day is England's; who Thy story is the tale of England's years, And, for the perfect evening of thy day, Feastest, but with thy hand upon the sword,	./cache/35922.txt	./txt/35922.txt