70
QUEEN EMMA.
70
QUEEN EMMA.
Dead in the mid-Pacific!—Hapless Queen, Widowed and childless when thy woman's heart Was fresh and young, but bearing sorrow's smartAs 'twere another wreath which the UnseenHad crowned thee with—a wreath of sadder mien— The cypress, not the orange,—and yet worn Meekly, as mindful that the rose's thorn—Even as the rose itself—though sharp and keen,Is God's gift none the less.—I heard thee tell Of happy days spent in the island homeOf England's laureate.—Were mine his spell, A wave of fitting verse should break in foamAt thy grave's foot, while fairest flowers should smile Above thee in the far Hawaiian isle!
