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Queen Victoria

Queen Victoria

These ever wakeful eyes are closed. They saw

Such grief, that they could see no more. The

heart —

That quick’ning pulse of nations — could not bear

Another throb of pain, and could not hear

Another cry of tortur’d motherhood.

Those uncomplaining lips, they sob no more

The soundless sobs of dark and burning tears,

That none have seen; they smile no more, to breathe

A mother’s comfort into aching hearts.

The patriarchal Queen, the monument

Of touching widowhood, of endless love,

And childlike purity — she sleeps. This night

Is watchful not. The restless hand, that slave

To duty, to a mastermind, to wisdom

That fathom’d history and saw beyond

The times, lies still in marble whiteness. Love

So great, so faithful, unforgetting and

Unselfish — must it sleep? Or will that veil.

That widow’s veil unfold, and spread into

The dovelike wings, that long were wont to hover

In anxious care about her worldwide nest.

And now will soar and sing, as harpchords sing,

Whilst in their upward flight they breast the wind

Of  Destiny. No rest for her, no tomb,

Nor ashes! Light eternal! Hymns of joy!

No silence now for her, who, ever silent.

Above misfortunes’ storms and thund’ring billows,

Would stand with clear and fearless brow, so calm,

That men drew strength from out those dauntless

eyes,

And quiet from that hotly beating heart,

Kept still by stem command and unbent will

Beneath those tight shut lips. Not ashes, where

A beacon e’er will burn, a fire, like

The Altar’s Soma, for the strong, the weak,

The true, the brave, and for the quailing. No,

Not ashes, but a light, that o’er the times

Will shed a gentle ray, and show the haven,

When all the world, stormshaken, rudderless, will

pray:

If but her century would shine again!

Oh, Lord! Why hast thou ta’en thy peaceful Queen?

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All rights reserved Diana Mandache’s Weblog Royal History http://www.royalromania.wordpress.com