Page:London Town (1883).pdf/27



kings of men We wander; then We’re quickly brought To kings of though, For poets lie Interred hard by. Here, too, repose The bones of those Who fought the foe Long, long ago. Brave knights were they; And in the fray They kept from shame The English name,

And proved in fight Great Britain’s might. Where they are laid Their rest is made As sweet as prayer By music rare: Over their head The sleeping dead Can daily hear The anthem clear Floating along Like angel’s song, Until it dies Like angel’s sighs.