 | A Sonnet Chronicle |  |
11
The Passing of the Queen
Osborne, January 22, 1901.
Now is an end of sorrowful loneliness!
From her imperial purple, to the land
Where all true-hearted kings with welcome stand,
Goes our great Queen; pure golden is her dress
And in her hand the lily. Storm and stress
The wide world o'er is hushed beneath the hand
Of loss, and voices sound from strand to strand,
Crying, “We bless Victoria, and shall bless!”
From her imperial purple, to the land
Where all true-hearted kings with welcome stand,
Goes our great Queen; pure golden is her dress
And in her hand the lily. Storm and stress
The wide world o'er is hushed beneath the hand
Of loss, and voices sound from strand to strand,
Crying, “We bless Victoria, and shall bless!”
For this was she who dwelt with God apart,
Yet 'mid her millions sympathetic moved;
This was the monarch—wise with gathered store
Of kingly counsel, learned in duty's lore—
The Queen whose more than sixty summers proved
Her throne inviolate was a Nation's heart.
Yet 'mid her millions sympathetic moved;
This was the monarch—wise with gathered store
Of kingly counsel, learned in duty's lore—
The Queen whose more than sixty summers proved
Her throne inviolate was a Nation's heart.
| A Sonnet Chronicle | |