Tribute to Gladstone

Lift up your heads; in life, in death, God knoweth his head was high; Quit we the coward's broken breath, Who watched a strong man die.

If ye must say "No more his peer Cometh: the flag is furled," Stand not too near him; lest we hear That slander on the world

The good green earth he loved and trod Is still, with many a scar, Writ in the chronicles of God A giant-bearing star.

He fell: but Britain's banner swings Above his sunken crown; Black Death shall have his toil of kings Before the cross goes down.

O young ones of a darker day, In Art's wan colours clad, Whose very love and hate are grey, Whose very sin is sad,

Pass on: one agony long-drawn Was merrier than your mirth; When hand in hand came death and dawn And spring was on the earth.