Bert Alward
The brawling voices babble as before
Though one is hushed : the noblest and the best
Is taken from our midst, and yet the rest
Still fight, and shout and wrangle on the floor.
But we shall never feel his presence more.
Nor hear his merry laugh and constant jest :
The Shades have welcomed an unwilling guest,
And darkness hides him on the farther shore.
Ah, cruel Death, why dost thou joy to show
Thy power by striking down the young and fair,
Letting the weak and old escape the blow ?
Restore thy victim we so ill can spare !
Nay, for 'tis best, and thus he shall not know
Old age, disease or poverty or care.