Classic Poem

Dead at the crest, the crown
And blossom of his fortunes, this strong son
Of our great Realm sank down
Beneath the load of Honours scarcely won

Windsor's Imperial Towers
Kept watch and ward above him as he lay;
His Sovereign lavished flowers
In gratitude upon his honoured clay.

Through stress and storm afar
He crossed once more the troubled wintry wave
In that stout ship of War,
By the old flag enshrouded for his grave.

Great Empire, heart and mind
Closer let Britain's sons together draw!
Such lives, such deaths, can bind
A firmer Union than the bond of Law.

May this career sublime,
This honoured ending of an honoured life,
Bear fruit through secular Time
In hearts drawn near, deep peace, averted strife!