Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE YOUNG QUEEN, by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: The shroud is yet unspread Last Line: People's voice! Subject(s): Victoria, Queen Of England (1819-1901) | ||||||||
I THE shroud is yet unspread To wrap our crowned dead; His soul hath scarcely hearkened for the thrilling word of doom; And Death, that makes serene Ev'n brows where crowns have been, Hath scarcely time to meeten his for silence of the tomb. II St. Paul's king-dirging note The city's heart hath smote -- The city's heart is struck with thought more solemn than the tone! A shadow sweeps apace Before the nation's face, Confusing in a shapeless blot the sepulchre and throne. III The palace sounds with wail -- The courtly dames are pale -- A widow o'er the purple bows, and weeps its splendor dim: And we who hold the boon, A king for freedom won, Do feel eternity rise up between our thanks and him. IV And while all things express All glory's nothingness, A royal maiden treadeth firm where that departed trod! The deathly scented crown Weighs her shining ringlets down; But calm she lifts her trusting face, and calleth upon God. V Her thoughts are deep within her: No outward pageants win her From memories that in her soul are rolling wave on wave -- Her palace walls enring The dust that was a king -- And very cold beneath her feet, she feels her father's grave. VI And One, as fair as she, Can scarce forgotten be, -- Who clasped a little infant dead, for all a kingdom's worth! The mourned, blessed One, Who views Jehovah's throne, Aye smiling to the angels, that she lost a throne on earth. VII Perhaps our youthful Queen Remembers what has been -- Her childhood's rest by loving heart, and sport on grassy sod -- Alas! can others wear A mother's heart for her? But calm she lifts her trusting face, and calleth upon God. VIII Yea! call on God, thou maiden Of spirit nobly laden, And leave such happy days behind, for happy-making years! A nation looks to thee For steadfast sympathy: Make room within thy bright clear eyes for all its gathered tears. IX And so the grateful isles Shall give thee back their smiles, And as thy mother joys in thee, in them shalt thou rejoice; Rejoice to meekly bow A somewhat paler brow, While the King of kings shall bless thee by the British people's voice! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 1. 1887 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE WIDOW AT WINDSOR by RUDYARD KIPLING IDYLLS OF THE KING: DEDICATION by ALFRED TENNYSON IDYLLS OF THE KING: TO THE QUEEN by ALFRED TENNYSON TO THE QUEEN by ALFRED TENNYSON CROWNED AND WEDDED by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING VICTORIA'S TEARS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING VERSES ON THE QUEEN by THOMAS CAMPBELL THE PURGATORY OF SUICIDES: BOOK 7, STANZA 7 by THOMAS COOPER A CHILD'S THOUGHT OF GOD by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |
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