Immortal bard of beauty, Thou, whose pen,
Inscribed gold charactry of thought sublime,
Revealing all the romance of old time
And melancholy gaze of moor and glen;
Thy quest for beauty urged thee 'mid the fen
Of smirching dust and London's sullen grime
To raise for her an altar rich with rhyme,
Haunting the visions and the hearts of men.

Thy lines remind us of perpetual youth,
Of pale nymphs dancing in a phantom light,
Singing the song of warm, celestial night,
Or tell us of the loneliness of Ruth.
The love of beauty has enriched thy name,
While truth for guerdon gave the touch of fame.