The sun that dropped down our horizon’s verge
     Illumes his labours through the travelled sky,
     Now seen in sum, most glorious; and ’tis known
     By what our warrior wrought we hold him fast. 
     A splendid image built of man has flown;
     His deeds inspired of God outstep a Past. 
     Ours the great privilege to have had one
     Among us who celestial tasks has done.

     At the funeral
     February 2, 1901

     Her sacred body bear:  the tenement
     Of that strong soul now ranked with God’s Elect
     Her heart upon her people’s heart she spent;
     Hence is she Royalty’s lodestar to direct.

     The peace is hers, of whom all lands have praised
     Majestic virtues ere her day unseen. 
     Aloft the name of Womanhood she raised,
     And gave new readings to the Title, Queen.

     Angela Burdett-Coutts

     Long with us, now she leaves us; she has rest
     Beneath our sacred sod: 
     A woman vowed to Good, whom all attest,
     The daylight gift of God.

     The year’s sheddings

     The varied colours are a fitful heap: 
     They pass in constant service though they sleep;
     The self gone out of them, therewith the pain: 
     Read that, who still to spell our earth remain.