Page:Ode on the day of the coronation of King Edward VII.djvu/31



Now the loud land flames with imperial gear,

And life itself, so late in hues austere

And the cold reign of iron custom bound,

Puts off its gray subjection, and is here

One moment throned and crowned.

Now the long glories prance and triumph by:

And now the pomps have passed, and we depart

Each to the peace or strife of his own heart: