Classic Poem

Throned before the people
Queen of land and sea,
While from tower and steeple
Crashed the clangorous glee;
First of four—enamelled
All with kingdoms round,
The crown of this, our England,
Upon thy brow was bound.

Next, in happiest hours,
Came the crown of life;
Love's fair wreath of flowers
Diademed thee Wife:
Hailed, Princess and Woman,
Honored, Queen and Spouse,
Half the golden burden
Lightened on thy brows.

Yet a crown came after,
Waiting thee to wear;
Little children's laughter
Rippled in thine ear.
At thy knee, most Noble!
Learning how to reign,
Princes and princesses
Grew—a gracious train.

Then, that coronation,
Grander than of Queen,
Making highest station
Higher than had been,
Did betide thee! binding
On thy drooping brow
Sorrow's thorny circlet—
Death hath crowned thee now.

O our Queen! our Mother!
Thou, of all, know'st all;
Joy or sorrow—other
Cannot hence befall.
Sad, imperial Forehead!
Sceptred, weary Hand!
Widowed Heart! the Greatest
And Loneliest in the Land!