The White Cliffs by Alice Duer Miller — Read

And were they not English, our forefathers, never more English than when they shook the dust of her sod From their feet forever, angrily seeking a shore Where in his own way a man might worship his God.

I am American bred, I have seen much to hate here--much to forgive, But in a world where England is finished and dead, I do not wish to live.