Back to the flower-town, side by side, br The bright months bring, br New-born, the bridegroom and the bride, br Freedom and spring. br The sweet land laughs from sea to sea, br Filled full of sun; br All things come back to her, being free; br All things but one. br In many a tender wheaten plot br Flowers that were dead br Live, and old suns revive; but not br That holier head. br br By this white wandering waste of sea, br Far north, I hear br One face shall never turn to me br As once this year: br br Shall never smile and turn and rest br On mine as there, br Nor one most sacred hand be prest br Upon my hair. br br I came as one whose thoughts half linger, br Half run before; br The youngest to the oldest singer br That England bore. br br I found him whom I shall not find br Till all grief end, br In holiest age our mightiest mind, br Father and friend. br br But thou, if anything endure, br If hope there be, br O spirit that man's life left pure, br Man's death set free, br br Not with disdain of days that were br Look earthward now; br Let dreams revive the reverend hair, br The imperial brow; br br Come back in sleep, for in the life br Where thou art not br We find none like thee. Time and strife br And the world's lot br br Move thee no more; but love at least br And reverent heart br May move thee, royal and released, br Soul, as thou art. br br And thou, his Florence, to thy trust br Receive and keep, br Keep safe his dedicated dust, br His sacred sleep. br br So shall thy lovers, come from far, br Mix with thy name br As morning-star with evening-star br His faultless fame.