April 23 St George’s Day, It’s globally accepted as the day that St George, the patron saint of England who is said to have slayed a dragon back in the day, died back in AD 303.

St George’s Day  is not bank holiday which doesn’t mean we can’t put our all into marking this traditional day of English pride.

For celebrating this day, we’ve put together some of our favorite quotes and poems about England, and a few images to boot.

Bill Bryson’s quote, ‘What other country…could possibly have come up with place names like Tooting Bec and Farleigh Wallop, or a game like cricket that goes on for three days and never seems to start?’

 William Shakespeare said, ‘This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.’

Gilbert K. Chesterton’s quote is,  ‘Saint George he was for England, And before he killed the dragon he drank a pint of English ale out of an English flagon.’

And Douglas Adams said, Do we have carjacking in England? No, but thanks for asking. We have people who clean your windscreen against your will…’

Following are some St George’s Day poems

“England, My England”

What have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown,
England–
Round the world on your bugles blown!

Where shall the watchful sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you’ve done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice agen
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown,
England–
Down the years on your bugles blown?

Ever the faith endures,
England, my England:–
‘Take and break us: we are yours,
England, my own!
Life is good, and joy runs high
Between English earth and sky:
Death is death; but we shall die
To the Song on your bugles blown,
England–
To the stars on your bugles blown!’

They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mail’d hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies,
You could know nor dread nor ease
Were the Song on your bugles blown,
England,
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!