We held you first without a peer,
And princely by your noble words words—
The Senior Wrangler of our bards
Is now the Wooden Spoon of lords.
Baron Alfred Vere de Vere,
You put strange memories in my head;
For just five decades now have flown
Since we all mourned young Arthur dead.
Oh, your wet eyes, your low replies!
Our tears have mingled with your tears: