The friend from whom I have before quoted, Mrs. Crosland, a most loyal
lady, wrote on this text a very sweet poem, from which I am tempted to
give a few verses:
"Sleep, far the night is round thee spread,
Thou daughter of a line of kings;
Sleep, widowed Queen, white angels' wings
Make canopy above thy head!
"Sleep, while a million prayers rise up
To Him who knew all earthly sorrow,
That day by day, each soft to-morrow
May melt the bitter from thy cup.
. . . . . . . .
"Long life ask for thee, dear Queen,
And moonlight peace, since joy is set.
And Time's soft touch on dark regret.
And memories calm of what has been!
"Long life for thee--for our best sake.
To be our stay 'mid hopes and fears.
Through many far-off future years,
Till thou by Albert's side shall wake!"
It seems Her Majesty could not bear the thought of her beloved Albert,
whose nature was so bright and joyous, and beauty-loving, resting amid
the darkness and heavy silence and "cold obstruction" of the royal vault;
so, as early as the 18th of December, she drove with the Princess Alice
to Frogmore, where they were-received by the Prince of Wales, Prince
Louis of Hesse, and several officers of the Royal Household.
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