When had Kaiser, King, or Conqueror, such monument as she?
But what can gold, or silver, or bronze, or marble, pay
Of the unsummed debt of gratitude owed her this many a day?
What record, parchment-blazoned, closed in golden casket rare,
Can with her love, in England's heart, for preciousness compare?
If we needs must find her symbol, then carve and set on high
A heavy-laden camel going through the needle's eye;
Gold-burdened, by a gentle yet firm hand wisely driven,—
Our Angela's, that on it rides, riches and all, to Heaven!
Or if a painted record be by the occasion claimed,