University of Virginia Library

FOUR SONNETS

TO THE MEMORY OF A GREAT QUEEN

I

When time sinks fainting, when pain's race is run,
When freedom's trumpet rings from pole to pole
And crime's stupendous storm-clouds cease to roll
In blood-red ridges, blotting out the sun:
When spirit at last with passionate sense is one
And through stern matter gleams the conquering soul:
When close upon us towers the ages' goal
And earth seems now a heavenly sphere begun:
Then shall we know why God, who gave to France
The matchless music of one song supreme,
And gave to Italy grim Dante's dream,
And bade the world bow down to Goethe's glance,
Made Shakespeare's England stronger, fairer far
Her face a warrior's, and her soul a star.

TO THE MEMORY OF A GREAT QUEEN

II

For, here, where Marlowe saw the morning break
As all the heaven of song grew golden-bright,
Not since has been, nor ever will be, night.
O'er England answering and for England's sake
New splendour flashes, as the wild years take
Their solemn farewell, or triumphal flight.
Not more the beacons when, proud-sailed, in sight,
The Armada watched the fiery hills awake.
But stronger are we, in that surelier here
The soul of Woman passes to a throne.
For God led terribly through paths unknown
England, that on the world superbly clear
Might shine the Vision given to her alone
Of Love that, knowing no ending, knows no fear.

TO THE MEMORY OF A GREAT QUEEN

III

Here, where the spirit of Kingsley loved the air
Of keen wild wintry England, where the rose
In soft delight of sun and shadow grows,
Veiled to the base, to loftiest angels bare,
A golden passion or a white-winged prayer,
The perfect love of woman proudly goes
Serene along the starry road she knows,
Past night's dim empires, kingdoms of despair.
We, we of all men, of all lands, have seen
What hope the high Victorian epoch gave,
What of strange greeting from beyond the grave,
What living mandate from a vanished Queen
Who, while our island paths she gently trod,
Looked on the face and held the hand of God.

TO THE MEMORY OF A GREAT QUEEN

IV

We, we who watched, and felt our hearts turn cold
When England mourned Victoria, seeing the skies
Darken, as when a solemn sunset dies:
We, who now list to selfishness grown bold
And hear a new world's clamorous shout for gold,
Triumphs material, gauds that trick the eyes,
While barriers thicken and sensual mists arise
Denser and denser, covering fold on fold
The lessening heavens wherein the great souls shine:
We, who have met the blood-stained thrusts of hell
And felt the healing of a hand divine,
Know that, though nation after nation fell,
If but she follow where her sure stars sign
With England and her sons it shall be well.