Death this year has taken men

Whose kind we shall not see again.

Pride and skill and friendliness,

Wrath and wisdom and delight,

Are shining still, but shining less,

And clouded to the common sight.

Time will show them clear again.

Time will give us other men

With names to write in burning gold

When they are great and we are old,

But these were royal-hearted, rare.

Memory keeps with loving care

Deeds they did and tales they told.

But living men are hard to spare.