She will not wake again, Not now, not here. O great and good and infinitely dear, O Mother of your people, sleep is sweet, No more Life's thorny ways will wound your feet. O Mother dear, sleep sound! When you shall wake, Your brows freed from the crown that made them ache So many a time, and wear the heavenly crown, Then, then you will look down On us who love you, and, remembering, The love of earth will breathe with us our prayer, Our prayer prayed here, joined to your prayer prayed there: Who knows what radiant answer it may bring? "God save the King!" The Queen is dead. God save the King! From all ill thought and deed, From heartless service and from selfish sway, From treason, and the vain imagining Of evil counsellors, and the noisome breed Of flatterers who eat the soul away, God save the King! From loss and pain and tears Such as her many years Brought her; from battle and strife, And the inmost hurt of life, The wounds that no crown can heal, No ermine robes conceal, God save the King! God, by our memories of his Mother's face, By the love that makes our heart her dwelling-place, Grant to our sorrow this desired grace: God save the King! * * * * * * * * * The Queen is dead. God save the King. This is no hour when joy has leave to sing; Only, amid our tears, we are bold to pray, More boldly, in that we pray sorrowing, In this most sorrowful day. God, who wast of a mortal Mother born, Who driest the tears with which Thy children mourn, God, save the King! Look down on him whose crown is wet with tears In which its splendour fades and disappears-- His tears, our tears, tears out of all her lands. The Queen is dead. God! strengthen the King's hands! God, save the King! TRUE LOVE AND NEW LOVE. OVER the meadow and down the lane To the gate by the twisted thorn: Your feet should know each turn of the way You trod so many many a day, Before the old love was put out of its pain, Before the new love was born. Kiss her, hold her and fold her close, Tell her the old true tale: You ought to know each turn of the phrase,-- You learned them all in the poor old days Before the birth of the new red rose, Before the old rose grew pale. And do not fear I shall creep to-night To make a third at your tryst: My ghost, if it walked, would only wait To scare the others away from the gate Where you teach your new love the old delight, With the lips that your old love kissed. DEATH. NEVER again: No child shall stir the inmost heart of her And teach her heaven by that first faint stir; No little lips shall lie against her breast Save the cold lips that now lie there at rest; No little voice shall rouse her from her sleep And bid her wake to pain: Her sleep is calm and deep, Call not! refrain.