John Critchley Prince - Memorial Poem by William Billington

The might of right, the love of love, the fire
Of hope and aspiration urged him on,
While Prince for peace and freedom tuned his lyre.
Though bright its light, his lamp of life still shone
In this direction and in this alone.
The true, the brave, the fair, the beautiful,
Are gathered up and garnered in his lays.
With skill 'twas his the choicest flowers to cull,
Enhancing still their perfume and their blaze.
And may our workman-poet's well won bays,
His glowing garland grow nor dim nor dull—
The pure, the gladsome current of his song,
Fresh, smooth, and clear, if seldom deep or strong,
Through countless years its wealth of waters roll along!