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40 LORD BURGHCLERE
The Peace of Justice, Mercy, Righteousness, Like the still radiance of a summer's dawn. With tranquil glory floods a troubled world ; Why then, perhaps, in the old hall at home. Where once I dreamed my eldest-born should stand The master, as I stand the master now, Our eyes, my wife, shall meet and gleam, and mark Niched on the walls in sanctity of pride, Hal's sword, Dick's medal, and the cross he won Yet never wore. That is the time for tears, Drawn from a well of love deep down ; deep down, Deep as the mystery of immortal souls, That is the time for tears ; not now, not now !
— Burghclere.
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