'Exstinctus amabitur idem.' Hor. Epist. ii. 1. 14. HE that was King an hour ago Is King no more; and we that bend Beside the bier, too surely know We lose a Friend. His was no 'blood-and-iron' blend To write in tears a ruthless reign; Rather he strove to make an end Of strife and pain. Rather he strove to heal again The half-healed wound, to hide the scar, To purge away the lingering stain Of racial war. Thus, though no trophies deck his car Of captured guns or banners torn, Men hailed him as they hail a star That comes with morn: A star of brotherhood, not scorn, A morn of loosing and release -- A fruitful time of oil and corn -- An Age of Peace! Sleep then, O Dead beloved! and sleep As one who, when his course is run, May yet, in slumber, memory keep Of duty done; Sleep then, our England's King, as one Who knows the lofty aim and pure, Beyond all din of battles won, Must still endure. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAWYER'S WAYS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR LINCOLN by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY RAILROAD RHYME by JOHN GODFREY SAXE TO JOSIAH ROYCE by BRENT DOW ALLINSON WAITING THE CHANGE by PHOEBE CARY SAINT BRANDAN OF THE WEST by ROBERT PETER TRISTRAM COFFIN |