15 FEBRUARY 1902, Page 18

POETRY.

THE QUEEN'S PASSING. SHE will not see her armies come

Home from her last and sternest war. The lean, brown regiments must be dumb, Whose heart thrilled to her from afar; Or utter for another's ear Their long-delayed victorious cheer.

But where, in that mysterious place, The spirits of her soldiers dead, Who died before they saw her face, Day after day were gathered, Those awed, expectant ranks between

The whisper ran : " The Queen ! The Queen !"

E. B. P.