Lead out the pageant: sad and slow,
As fits an universal woe,
Let the long, long procession go,
And let the sorrowing crowd about it grow,
And let the mournful martial music blow;
The last great Englishman is low.
--
St. IIIAlfred Tennyson (Lord)
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Tennyson, Alfred (Lord)
Tennyson, Lionel
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