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In Remembrance of Joseph Sturge.

in the fair land o'erwatched by Ischia's mountains,
     Across the charmed bay
Whose blue waves keep with Capri's silver fountains
     Perpetual holiday,

A king lies dead, his wafer duly eaten,
     His gold-bought masses given;
And Rome's great altar smokes with gums to sweeten
     Her foulest gift to Heaven.

And while all Naples thrills with mute thanks giving,
     The court of England's queen
For the dead monster so abhorred while living
     In mourning garb is seen.

With a true sorrow God rebukes that feigning;
     By lone Edgbaston's side
Stands a great city in the sky's sad raining,
     Bareheaded and wet-eyed!

Silent for once the restless hive of labor,
     Save the low funeral tread,
Dr voice of craftsman whispering to his neighbor
     The good deeds of the dead.

For him no minster's chant of the immortals
     Rose from the lips of sin;

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