Dedicatory Poem to the Princess Alice

Dead Princess, living Power, if that which lived True life live onand if the fatal kiss, Born of true life and love, divorce thee not From earthly love and lifeif what we call The spirit flash not all at once from out This shadow into Substancethen perhaps The mellowd murmur of the peoples praise From thine own State, and all our breadth of realm, Where Love and Longing dress thy deeds in light, Ascends to thee; and this March morn that sees Thy Soldier-brothers bridal orange-bloom Break thro the yews and cypress of thy grave, And thine Imperial mother smile again, May send one ray to thee! and who can tell ThouEnglands England-loving daughterthou Dying so English thou wouldst have her flag Borne on thy coffinwhere is he can swear But that some broken gleam from our poor earth May touch thee, while, remembering thee, I lay At thy pale feet this ballad of the deeds Of England, and her banner in the East?