To Them That Mourn

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 we must say, 'No more his peer     Cometh; the flag is furled.'     Stand not too near him, lest he 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 toll of kings     Before that cross goes down.     Once more shall move with mighty things     His house of ancient tale,     Where kings whose hands were kissed of kings     Went in: and came out pale.     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.