Dedicatory Poem to the Princess Alice
By Alfred Lord Tennyson
Dead Princess, living Power, if that which lived
True life live onand if the fatal kiss,
Born of true life and love, divorce thee not
From earthly love and lifeif what we call
The spirit flash not all at once from out
This shadow into Substancethen perhaps
The mellowd murmur of the peoples praise
From thine own State, and all our breadth of realm,
Where Love and Longing dress thy deeds in light,
Ascends to thee; and this March morn that sees
Thy Soldier-brothers bridal orange-bloom
Break thro the yews and cypress of thy grave,
And thine Imperial mother smile again,
May send one ray to thee! and who can tell
ThouEnglands England-loving daughterthou
Dying so English thou wouldst have her flag
Borne on thy coffinwhere is he can swear
But that some broken gleam from our poor earth
May touch thee, while, remembering thee, I lay
At thy pale feet this ballad of the deeds
Of England, and her banner in the East?