Classic Poem

to James First Bishop of Shrewsbury on the
25th Year of his Episcopate July 28 1876

Though no high-hung bells or din
Of braggart bugles cry it in —
What is sound? Nature's round
Makes the Silver Jubilee.

Five and twenty years have run┬░
Since sacred fountains to the sun
Sprang, that but now were shut,
Showering Silver Jubilee.

Feasts, when we shall fall asleep,
Shrewsbury may see others keep;
None but you this her true,
This her Silver Jubilee.

Not today we need lament
Your wealth of life is some way spent:
Toil has shed round your head
Silver but for Jubilee.

Then for her whose velvet vales
Should have pealed with welcome, Wales,
Let the chime of a rhyme
Utter Silver Jubilee.