The earth is full of tears. "The Queen is dead!" Ye men, with crêpe upon your king's array, Why make ye pageant over weary clay? If ye have loved her, do the things she said. She rests from strifes which broke her heart at last; That heart—in love with peace—stunned by the roar Which crashed upon the Imperial Island's shore; She sees God's purpose now, with view more vast. Sing hallelujah! Let the requiems cease! As angels are, all young of form and fair, So she, to-day; half wondering to be where War blazons not, and life abides in peace. Tear off the purple bands! Cast them away! Hushed is love's parting sob—the years refrain. She who was widowed, walks in white again; Stain not with grief your Lady's nuptial day. Ye passing bells, a Jubilate ring! Sound, bugles, sound! Ye heralds, cry the hour! Your Queen approaches now the Gracious Power, Received into the Presence of The King. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VARIATIONS: 12 by CONRAD AIKEN CARGO MOVING TO GAZA (1988) by MARVIN BELL THE TRASH MEN by CHARLES BUKOWSKI ABOVE HALF MOON by JAMES GALVIN FOR REMEMBERING HOW TO LIVE WITHOUT YOU by JAMES GALVIN |