POEMS.
To Her Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria,
ON COMPLETING THE 60TH YEAR OF HER REIGN.
1837—1897.
Beloved Queen! thrice twenty years have flown
Since that eventful morn in June, when thou
Learnt thy succession to the throne,
And now the silvered tresses wreathe thy brow.
Since that eventful morn in June, when thou
Learnt thy succession to the throne,
And now the silvered tresses wreathe thy brow.
Dear wast thou to our grandsires in those days—
The olden days that seem so far away—
Dear to our sires who sang Victoria's praise,
And dear unto our children of to-day.
The olden days that seem so far away—
Dear to our sires who sang Victoria's praise,
And dear unto our children of to-day.
Ah, well we know what thoughts are in thy breast,
What mingled memories of joy and pain,
As standing by this fresh milestone to rest
Thou dost review thy glorious record reign.
What mingled memories of joy and pain,
As standing by this fresh milestone to rest
Thou dost review thy glorious record reign.
Gone are those grey-haired counsellors of thine,
Who were the first to pledge their fealty
To thee and all thy future Royal line—
But in the courts of heaven they wait for thee.
Who were the first to pledge their fealty
To thee and all thy future Royal line—
But in the courts of heaven they wait for thee.
