 | The Writings of Bret Harte |  |
THE QUEEN'S DEATH
(ON THE DEATH OF QUEEN VICTORIA)
When your men bowed heads together
With hushed lips,
And the globe swung out from gladness
To eclipse;
With hushed lips,
And the globe swung out from gladness
To eclipse;
When your drums from the equator
To the pole
Carried round it an unending
Funeral roll;
To the pole
Carried round it an unending
Funeral roll;
When your capitals from Norway
To the Cape
Through their streets and from their houses
Trailed their crape;
To the Cape
Through their streets and from their houses
Trailed their crape;
Still the sun awoke to gladness
As of old,
And the stars their midnight beauty
Still unrolled;
As of old,
And the stars their midnight beauty
Still unrolled;
For the glory born of Goodness
Never dies,
And its flag is not half-masted
In the skies.
Never dies,
And its flag is not half-masted
In the skies.
| The Writings of Bret Harte | |