#WingedWordsWindsday: 2022/09/21 -- In Memoriam Reginae Elizabethae II

 

WINGED WORDS WINDSDAY

Compiled by Rob Chappell (@RHCLambengolmo)

Vol. 1, No. 47: September 21, 2022

 

Poems to Celebrate the Life and Legacy of Queen Elizabeth II

 

Editor’s Note

This week’s garland of poems is presented in honor of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II of the United Kingdom (reigned 1952-2022), who reposed at Balmoral Castle in Scotland on Thursday, September 8.

 

This picture of Balmoral Castle was painted by James Cassie (1819-1879) during the Victorian Era. (Image Credit: Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)

 

“The Higher Life” (1913)

By Madeline S. Brigham

 

There are royal hearts, there are spirits brave,

There are souls that are pure and true;

Then give to the world the best you have,

And the best will come back to you.

 

Give love, and love to your life will flow,

And strength in your utmost needs;

Have faith, and a score of hearts will show

Their faith in your work and deeds.

 

Give truth, and your gift will be paid in kind,

And a song a song will meet;

And the smile which is sweet will surely find

A smile that is just as sweet.

 

Give pity and sorrow to those that mourn,

You will gather in flowers again

The scattered seeds from your thoughts outborne,

Though the sowing seemed in vain.

 

For life is the mirror of king and knave,

‘Tis just what we are and do;

Then give to the world the best you have,

And the best will come back to you.

 

“Up-Hill”

By Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)

 

Does the road wind up-hill all the way?

Yes, to the very end.

Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?

From morn to night, my friend.

 

But is there for the night a resting-place?

A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.

May not the darkness hide it from my face?

You cannot miss that inn.

 

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?

Those who have gone before.

Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?

They will not keep you standing at that door.

 

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?

Of labor you shall find the sum.

Will there be beds for me and all who seek?

Yea, beds for all who come.

 

“Many Ways We Wend”

By George MacDonald (1824-1905)

 

Thou goest thine, and I go mine –

Many ways we wend;

Many days, and many ways,

Ending in one end.

 

Many a wrong, and its curing song;

Many a road, and many an inn;

Room to roam, but only one home

For all the world to win.

 

“A Psalm of Life”

(What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist)

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

 

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,

Life is but an empty dream! —

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.

 

Life is real!   Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal;

Dust thou art, to dust returnest,

Was not spoken of the soul.

 

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each to-morrow

Find us farther than to-day.

 

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.

 

In the world's broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

Be a hero in the strife!

 

Trust no Future, however pleasant!

Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act, — act in the living Present!

Heart within, and God overhead!

 

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,

And, departing, leave behind us

Footprints on the sands of time;

 

Footprints, that perhaps another,

Sailing o'er life's solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

Seeing, shall take heart again.

 

Let us, then, be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labor and to wait.

 

“Jerusalem”

By William Blake (1757-1827)

 

And did those feet in ancient time

Walk upon England’s mountains green:

And was the holy Lamb of God,

On England’s pleasant pastures seen!

 

And did the Countenance Divine,

Shine forth upon our clouded hills?

And was Jerusalem builded here,

Among these dark Satanic Mills?

 

Bring me my Bow of burning gold:

Bring me my arrows of desire:

Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!

Bring me my Chariot of fire!

 

I will not cease from Mental Fight,

Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand:

Till we have built Jerusalem,

In England’s green and pleasant Land.

 

The hill of Glastonbury Tor in Somerset, SW England, traditionally regarded as the site of the earliest Christian community in Britain, founded during the 1^st century CE. (Image Credit: Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)