for CJS

You found our songs and dances all but spent,
Lingering in ancient memories, voices frail,
Limbs weak with years, and with long labours bent.
Had you not been, that age-old beauty's tale

Of movement and sweet music, perfected
Through countless generations, father, son,
And grandson, all that richness must have sped
Forgotten, lost, inanimate, unknown.

You seized that treasure from Time's thieving hand,
You played for youth the part age could not play,
Summed in yourself tradition's faltering power

And from the dying past made every hour
Of future time with living music gay.
While England dances, proud your name shall stand.