IN MEMORY OF SIR HENRY IRVING
DEAR noble fighter in the cause you loved,
Whose mailed hand was yet so softly gloved
Which, strong for foe, was stronger far for friend,
To whose great charity there was no end.
A worker broken down: 'twas yours to give
That helping hand that gave him heart to live.
Who that once saw you could forget your smile,
Its selflessness, its absence of all guile?
I see your entry in that other land:
Great Shakespeare greets you, holds you by the hand.
Oh! greater shrine than England's country boasts,
Your memory lives in Britain's countless hosts.
If "troops of friends" your spirit now can cheer,
Rest satisfied: the whole world holds you dear!
Whose mailed hand was yet so softly gloved
Which, strong for foe, was stronger far for friend,
To whose great charity there was no end.
A worker broken down: 'twas yours to give
That helping hand that gave him heart to live.
Who that once saw you could forget your smile,
Its selflessness, its absence of all guile?
I see your entry in that other land:
Great Shakespeare greets you, holds you by the hand.
Oh! greater shrine than England's country boasts,
Your memory lives in Britain's countless hosts.
If "troops of friends" your spirit now can cheer,
Rest satisfied: the whole world holds you dear!
16
