Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ON SEEING THE QUEEN'S TRAIN PASS THROUGH COATBRIDGE, by JANET HAMILTON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ON SEEING THE QUEEN'S TRAIN PASS THROUGH COATBRIDGE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: My queen! Beloved, bereaved - no festal car
Last Line: To thee and thine be husband, father, friend.
Alternate Author Name(s): Hamilton, Janet Thompson
Subject(s): Courts & Courtiers; Death; Grief; Love - Loss Of; Marriage; Mourning; Women; Royal Court Life; Royalty; Kings; Queens; Dead, The; Sorrow; Sadness; Weddings; Husbands; Wives; Bereavement


MY QUEEN! beloved, bereaved—no festal car
Is that which speeds thee to the wilds afar.
A stricken deer thou fliest, O mourning Queen,
To seek thy wonted haunts and weep unseen!
Weep, gracious Lady! tears are blessed things;
Woe to the stricken heart from whence up-springs
No gushing sorrows! Ah! the burning pain
Of grief is softened by that tender rain.
The hills of mist, the forests dense and lone,
The mountain torrents plunging, thundering on,
Wild glens, dark corries, lakes of silver sheen,
Say to thy lonely heart, "Here he hath been!"
But ah! the loving life of that sad heart
But half survives, since he, its dearer part,
Was reft by early death from thy lone side,
And left thee sadly stemming life's dark tide.
Yet not alone, though thy worn spirit pines
That thou no more may'st read the tender lines
Of love and truth writ on that pallid face,
Where anguish'd suffering strove with patient grace;
For ere he went, was wreathed a golden chain—
The precious links are nine—still to retain
Close to thy heart the children of his love,
So dear on earth, and waited for above;
And these dear pledges thou, in faith and prayer,
Wilt watch, teach, guide, and lead to meet him there.
Oh! may the dews of Heaven, descending, shed
A balm celestial on thy sacred head—
More sacred in the majesty of woe
Than aught thy crown and sceptre can bestow!
Though deep and true the sympathy we feel,
Thine is a wound that only God can heal.
Sharp was the stroke, and heavy was the rod,
But He who chastened is thy Father—God.
Kneel for His blessing—lean upon His breast
Thy weary head, and sob thyself to rest.
Forgive me, Lady; I would not intrude—
I would not dare to stir with finger rude
Thy depth of woe. God save thee and defend;
To thee and thine be Husband, Father, Friend.





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