Page:Mr. Punch's history of the Great War, Graves, 1919.djvu/295

 The salt grey herbs have withered over you,
 * The stars of Spring gone down,

And your long loneliness has lain unstirred By touch of home, unless some migrant bird
 * Flashed eastward from the white cliffs to the brown.

Hard by the nameless dust of Argive men,
 * Remembered and remote, like theirs of Troy,

Your sleep has been, nor can ye wake again
 * To any cry of joy;

Summers and snows have melted on the waves, And past the noble silence of your graves
 * The merging waters narrow and deploy.

But not in vain, not all in vain, thank God;
 * All that you were and all you might have been

Was given to the cold effacing sod,
 * Unstrewn with garlands green;

The valour and the vision that were yours Lie not with broken spears and fallen towers,
 * With glories perishable of all things seen.

Children of one dear land and every sea,
 * At last fulfilment comes—the night is o'er;

Now, as at Samothrace, swift Victory
 * Walks winged on the shore;

And England, deathless Mother of the dead, Gathers, with lifted eyes and unbowed head,
 * Her silent sons into her arms once more.

Crowns and thrones have rocked and toppled of late, but our King and Queen, by their unsparing and unfaltering devotion to duty, by their simplicity of life and unerring instinct for saying and doing the right thing, have not only set a fine example, but strengthened their hold on the loyalty of all classes. And King Albert, who defied Germany at the outset, shared the dangers of his soldiers in retreat and disaster, and throughout the war proved an inspiration to his people, has been spared to lead them to victory and has gloriously come into his own again. His decision to resist Germany was perhaps the most heroic act of the War, and he has emerged from his tremendous ordeal with world-wide prestige and