The gentle heart that hated wrong, <br />The courage that all ills withstood, <br />The seeing eye, the mighty song <br />That stirred us into Nationhood, <br />Have passed. What garlands can be spread? <br />The Prince of Courtesy is dead. <br />The power that touched all human chords <br />With wit that lightened thro’ the years <br />Without a sting, whose tender words <br />Unsealed the fountain of our tears— <br />Ah! bow the heart and bend the head— <br />The Prince of Courtesy is dead. <br /> <br />Great Singer of the South, who set <br />Thy face to Duty as a star, <br />Though, in hushed skies of violet, <br />Thy throne of kingship gleamed afar, <br />Shall not the toil of common days <br />Add nobler lustre to thy bays! <br /> <br />O Mighty Voice, whose words shall stand— <br />When all our songs have ceased to be— <br />Steadfast, the watchwords of our land, <br />The guide and torch of Liberty! <br />The Master-Poet called afar, <br />And thou at last hast found thy star!<br /><br />George Essex Evans<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/brunton-stephens-2/
