Classic Poem

Glad voices o'er the land
Ring in loud shouts of joy and thankfulness,
For, laurel-crowned by Plenty, Peace doth stand
This happy day to bless.

This day the nations meet —
Not as of old they met, in warfare rude,
But every clime is linked in friendship sweet
And bonds of brotherhood.

And in one stately hall,
Thronged with the triumphs of man's soaring mind,
No single separate race is owned, but all
Are members of mankind;

And as the voice of praise
Rings through the corridors and fails again,
Angels are singing as in olden days,
" Peace and goodwill to men!"

A blessing on his name
Whose mind conceived this world-embracing plan
Of universal love, which shows the claim
Man ever holds on man: —

Whose unobtrusive life
Was one still struggle in the cause of peace,
To hasten on the golden day when strife
And enmity shall cease.

A tear for her who yet
Mourns for the chosen of her youthful years —
The royal widow, in her deep regret,
Victoria in her tears.

She weeps for him who stood
So long the partner of her happy reign:
O pathos of her splendid solitude!
O passion of her pain!

Yet though her eyes are dim
With tears, a joy must thrill her soul to-day,
To see crowned with success the work of him,
Her Great-heart, passed away.

Our Albert! lo, the whole
Wide world unites thy monument to rear,
And in this hall of nations every soul
Doth hold thy memory dear.

Behold, it is the May!
Her voice awakens all the vernal flowers;
The woods put on their verdure fresh and gay,
And vocal are the bowers.

The perfume-laden breeze
Creeps faintly o'er the land like incense mild;
A thousand birds sing from a thousand trees
With carol sweet and wild;

And as the voice of praise
Swells upward to the sky and fails again,
Angels are singing as in olden days,
" Peace and goodwill to men!"