WHEN within that silken-curtained room,
The dear Husband of our State lay dying,
All the land was shrouded with that gloom,
Every household echoed to that crying.

'Think of all those children,' said the parents;
'One in Prussia, one across the sea;
One far south, and five within the palace;
Little Beatrice on her MOTHER'S knee,

'Just as in the portraits we see daily.'
Ah, what fellow-feeling touched the land!
What a mist of tears went up to Windsor,
For a grief that all could understand!

In the churches on that Sunday morning,
Trembling congregations heard the prayer
With his name omitted, for the first time
Since we placed the youthful bridegroom there.

All that week upon the roads and markets
Gathered groups of listening heads were seen--
And we heard the 'women in the railways'
Talk in tearful whispers of 'the Queen.'

Ere a month had passed, a royal message
Flies electric through the anxious crowd;
But this time it is the Queen commissions
Words of fellow-feeling, deep, not loud.

'Is there any hope that we can save them?'
Asked the WIDOW of those death-struck wives.
'Any hope!' But hark! the throbbing answer:
'No! the Lord hath taken all their lives.'

All those 'canny fellows,' all the husbands,
Sweethearts, striplings, children even, slept
A not unpeaceful slumber, seated patient
While the deadly vapour on them crept.

Twice within a month the Lord has smitten
England with a very heavy hand;
Twice hath roused all hearts with tender mourning
For a grief that all can understand.

But if Love possesses any healing,
It has sprung to life amidst these woes;
Taught the nation what a fellow-feeling
Through the pulses of a people flows.

And although the price has been most bitter,
England gains a truth in making known
To her millions that a common nature
Tends the cottage hearth and fills the throne.