Oh some are fond of Spanish wine, and some are fond of French, And some’ll swallow tay and stuff fit only for a wench; But I’m for right Jamaica till… - John Masefield

What have I done, or tried, or said
In thanks to that dear woman dead?
Men triumph over women still,
Men trample women's rights at will,
And man's lust roves the world untamed.
* * * *
O grave, keep shut lest I be shamed.

Then watchers of the life of man will know
How spirits quickened in this ended reign,
Till what was centuries stagnant 'gan to flow
And what was centuries fettered moved again;
How with this Ruler entered into rest
The country's very self from slumber stirred,
To charity as guide and hope as guest
And ventured to a nobler marching word.

Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir,
Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine,
With a cargo of ivory,
And apes and peacocks,
Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.