Tribute To Gladstone

Lift up your heads; in life, in death, God knoweth his head was high; Quit we the coward's broken breath, Who watched a strong man die. If ye must say 'No more his peer Cometh: the flag is furled,' Stand not too near him; lest we hear That slander on the world The good green earth he loved and trod Is still, with many a scar, Writ in the chronicles of God A giant-bearing star. He fell: but Britain's banner swings Above his sunken crown; Black Death shall have his toil of kings Before the cross goes down. O young ones of a darker day, In Art's wan colours clad, Whose very love and hate are grey, Whose very sin is sad, Pass on: one agony long-drawn Was merrier than your mirth; When hand in hand came death and dawn And spring was on the earth.