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Poem	Under the cross in the Southern skies, Where the beautiful night like a shadow lies, A fair young life went out in the light To wake no more in the star-crowned night. Beautiful visions of life were his, Visions of triumph and fame; Longing for glory that he might be Worthy to wear his name. Brave was his heart as he sailed away Under the Northern sky; Leaving behind him all that he loved— Stilling his heart's wild cry. Proudly his mother, with royal pride, Stifled her last regret; Steeling her heart—but her dream was in vain For the star of his race was set. Surely the moon as he slept at night Whispered his doom on high; Surely the waves in their rocky beds Mourned as he passed them by. For never again in the dusky night Would the prince go sailing by; Weaving his dreams with a boyish pride Under the shadowy sky. Silent and cold in the morn he lay, Slain by a ruthless hand! Never to wake with his fearless eyes— Never again to command. Imperial mother—too well we know The speechless depths of her awful woe; For the bright young life into Eternity hurled Was her only like to a sad, dark world. But mothers kneel in the silent night To whisper a prayer to the Throne of Light, For the beautiful woman whose head lies low, Crushed 'neath the weight of its crown of woe. From sun to shadow her life has swayed Like some wild rose in a mountain glade; But the storms have won, and the blossom lies Forever broken—no more to rise.
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