Here you will find the Poem Seddon of poet George Essex Evans
When from his place a forest monarch falls, A thunder shakes the leafy leagues across, Reverberating to its utmost walls: So through an Empire rings this sound of loss. Still, as of old, the kingless forest-aisles We see?but not the strength that was their fame: So, at Death?s voice, far from his kingless aisles The last Great Tribune answers to his name. Nature, that builds great minds for mighty tasks, Sculptured his frame to match the soul within; Taught him how wisdom wields the power it asks; For each new conquest set him more to win. Rough-hewn was he for power, a massive mould, Broad-brained, far-sighted, honourable, free From narrowing envy, with a heart of gold As wide and deep and dominant as the sea. He passes, but his memory is power. Behind him lives the good that none may stay; His name remains a beacon-light, a tower By which all feebler hearts may guide their way. Come, let us follow him with reverent feet, With fern and rata twine the wattle fair; Tread soft: a mighty heart has ceased to beat And one of Nature?s kings is sleeping there.
