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Ballads of the War

By H. D. Rawnsley

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The Queen at Netley
 
 
 
 
 
 


88

The Queen at Netley

They spake not, but their wounds were eloquent
As there they stood in hospital array,
The pain of sword and bullet passed away
While on from ward to ward Victoria went;
And here she thanked them for their brave intent,
There for some tender question would she stay;
Here speak with sorrow of the battle day,
There smile such smile as more than praises meant.
Lady revered, for whom all men endure
The heat of onset gladly, and the cold
Of loss and failure, love is ever green
To crown your royal head with more than gold;
When all the thrones are shaken yours is sure,
Seeming so much more mother than a Queen.

Note.—One of the Gordon Highlanders, writing of the Queen's visit to Netley to see the wounded, said, “It was the proudest moment of my life; the Queen spoke to us all; she seemed much more a mother than a Queen.”