The poem
Your dextrous wit will haunt us long Wounding our grief with yesterday. Your laughter is a broken song; And death has found you, kind and gay.
We may forget those transient things That made your charm and our delight: But loyal love has deathless wings That rise and triumph out of night.
So, in the days to come, your name Shall be as music that ascends When honour turns a heart from shame... O heart of hearts! ... O friend of friends!