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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409005" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>When The Duke of Clarence Died</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let us sing in tear-choked numbers how the Duke of Clarence went,<br>Just to make a royal sorrow rather more pre-eminent.<br>Ladies sighed and sobbed and drivelled—toadies spoke with bated breath,<br>And the banners floating half-mast made a mockery of death,<br>And they said Australia sorrowed for the Prince’s death—they lied!<br>She had done with kings and princes ere the Duke of Clarence died.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What’s a death in lofty places? What’s a noble birth?—say I—<br>To the poor who die in hundreds, as a man should never die?<br>Can they shed a tear, or sorrow for a royal dunce’s fate?<br>No! for royalty has taught them how to sing the songs of hate;<br>O’er the sounds of grief in Europe, and the lands across the tide<br>Rose the growl of revolution, when the Duke of Clarence died.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We—it matters not how lonely our o’er-burdened lives are spent—<br>Claim in common with a Clarence, straight from Adam our descent!<br>Even the man they call a “bastard” has a lineage to himself,<br>Though he traces not his fathers through the sordid line of Guelph,<br>And, perhaps in some foul garret in his misery and pride,<br>One of Nature’s Kings was dying when the Duke of Clarence died.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! the workgirl’s bloodless fingers, in the plundered human hive,<br>Sew the banners of rebellion, while the kings and princes thrive;<br>In the cold of northern winter—in the south in dust and heat—<br>Weary workmen preach sedition at the corners of the street.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They pre-eminent in sorrow! ’tis pre-eminence in cheek;<br>We shall hear what care and pain is when the slums begin to speak;<br>Hundreds starved to pay the shadow of a crown upon his head!<br>Yellow gold (at last impotent) fought with death beside his bed.<br>And, perhaps, a Prince of Nature sat despairing by the side<br>Of a noble mother STARVING when the Duke of Clarence died.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ignoble living—splendid dead! behold the pomp of royal woe!<br>Lo, the funeral! battle-hero never yet was buried so.<br>Who and what was he? What has he done to benefit mankind?<br>Has he nought to show Saint Peter save a royal race behind?<br>Who is worthy? Who is noble? God! shall gold alone decide?<br>Better men like dogs were buried ere the Duke of Clarence died.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thrones of earth and earthly rulers soon shall all be swept aside,<br>And ’twere better for his comfort that the Duke of Clarence died.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Lawson">Henry Lawson</a><div class=q>
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Just to make a royal sorrow rather more pre-eminent.
Ladies sighed and sobbed and drivelled—toadies spoke with bated breath,
And the banners floating half-mast made a mockery of d..."></div>
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