A fountain of our sweetest, quick to spring In fellowship abounding, here subsides: And never passage of a cloud on wing To gladden blue forgets him; near he hides.

THE EMPEROR FREDERICK OF OUR TIME

With Alfred and St. Louis he doth win Grander than crowned head’s mortuary dome: His gentle heroic manhood enters in The ever-flowering common heart for home.

ISLET THE DACHS

Our Islet out of Helgoland, dismissed From his quaint tenement, quits hates and loves. There lived with us a wagging humourist In that hound’s arch dwarf-legged on boxing-gloves.

ON HEARING THE NEWS FROM VENICE

(THE DEATH OF ROBERT BROWNING)

Now dumb is he who waked the world to speak, And voiceless hangs the world beside his bier. Our words are sobs, our cry of praise a tear: We are the smitten mortal, we the weak. We see a spirit on Earth’s loftiest peak Shine, and wing hence the way he makes more clear: See a great Tree of Life that never sere Dropped leaf for aught that age or storms might wreak. Such ending is not Death: such living shows What wide illumination brightness sheds From one big heart, to conquer man’s old foes: The coward, and the tyrant, and the force Of all those weedy monsters raising heads When Song is murk from springs of turbid source.

December 13, 1889.

HAWARDEN

When comes the lighted day for men to read Life’s meaning, with the work before their hands Till this good gift of breath from debt is freed, Earth will not hear her children’s wailful bands Deplore the chieftain fall’n in sob and dirge; Nor they look where is darkness, but on high. The sun that dropped down our horizon’s verge Illumes his labours through the travelled sky, Now seen in sum, most glorious; and ’tis known By what our warrior wrought we hold him fast. A splendid image built of man has flown; His deeds inspired of God outstep a Past. Ours the great privilege to have had one Among us who celestial tasks has done.

AT THE FUNERAL

FEBRUARY 2, 1901

Her sacred body bear: the tenement Of that strong soul now ranked with God’s Elect Her heart upon her people’s heart she spent; Hence is she Royalty’s lodestar to direct. The peace is hers, of whom all lands have praised Majestic virtues ere her day unseen. Aloft the name of Womanhood she raised, And gave new readings to the Title, Queen.

ANGELA BURDETT-COUTTS

Long with us, now she leaves us; she has rest Beneath our sacred sod: A woman vowed to Good, whom all attest, The daylight gift of God.

THE YEAR’S SHEDDINGS

The varied colours are a fitful heap: They pass in constant service though they sleep; The self gone out of them, therewith the pain: Read that, who still to spell our earth remain.