52 ANNIE VIVANTI CHART RES
��THE BROKEN ROSE
TO KING ALBERT
Shy, youthful, silent — and misunderstood
In the white glare of Kinghood thou didst stand.
The sceptre in thy hand
Seemed but a flower the Fates had tossed to thee,
And thou wert called, perchance half-scornfully,
Albert the Good.
To-day thou standest on a blackened grave, Thy broken sword still lifted to the skies. Thy pure and fearless eyes Gaze into Death's grim visage unappalled And by the storm-swept nations thou art called Albert the Brave.
Tossed on a blood-red sea of rage and hate
The frenzied world rolls forward to its doom.
But high above the gloom
Flashes the fulgent beacon of thy fame.
The nations thou hast saved exalt thy name —
Albert the Great !
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