Upon your river where, by day and night, Your world-adventuring ships come home again, Glide ghostly galleons, manned by men of might Who plucked the wings and singed the beard of Spain; The men who, not in vain, Saved to the children of a world new-trod The birth-tongue of our land, her freedom, and her God. Princes who lived to make our England great, Poets who wreathed her greatness with their song, Wise men who steered her heavy ship of State, Brave men who steered her battle-ships along, In spectral concourse throng To applaud the consummated power and pride Of that belovèd land for which they lived and died. The thousand un-named heroes who, sword-strong, Ploughed the long acre wherein Empire grows Wide as the world, and long as Time is long-- These mark the crescence of the English rose Whose thorny splendour glows O’er far-off subject lands, by alien waves, A crown for England’s brow, a garland for her graves. And faces out of unforgotten years, Faces long hidden by death’s misty screen, Faces you still can scarcely see for tears, Will smile on you to-day and near you lean, O Mother, Wife, and Queen! With whispered love too sacred and too dear For any ear than yours, Mother and Wife, to hear. Lady, the crowd will vaunt to-day your fame, Daughter and heir of many mighty kings, The Queen of England, whose imperial name From England’s heart and lips tumultuous springs In prayers and thanksgivings, Because your greatness and her greatness shine Merged each in each, as stars their beams that intertwine. Yet in the inmost heart, where folded close The richest treasures of the poorest lie, Love, whose clear eyes see many secrets, knows A nobler name than Queen to call you by, And breathes it silently; But, ’mid His listening crowd of angels, One Shall speak your name and say, “Faithful and good, well done!” AFTER SIXTY YEARS Ring, bells! flags, fly! and let the great crowd roar Its ecstasy. Let the hid heart in prayer Lift up your name. God bless you evermore, Lady, who have the noblest crown to wear That ever woman wore. A jewel, in the front of time, shall blaze This day, of all your days commemorate; With Time’s white bays your brows are laureate, And England’s love shall garland all your days. * * * * *