King Edward the Seventh, was dead. With him, hope died also, tis said. At Ascot later that year his mistresses, I hear, all favored blacks over reds. Black hats with black feathers they wore in mourning for Bertie, they swore. Black dresses, of course for their dear love, now lost, who, often, had honored their beds.
King Edward the Seventh, was dead. With him, hope died also, tis said. In uncertain blue twilight Dark shadows were spawned as the glow from the lamp lights had fled Kaiser Wilhelm now free of restraint from his Uncle Bertie with reckless abandon chose war.
The Long period of peace on the European continent ( 1871-1914) was coming to an end. An end hastened by the death of England's King Edward VII, the man who was the uncle of Europe. As Sir Edward Grey famously said at the time ( 8/1914) :"The lamps are going out all over Europe. We shall not see them lit again in our time". I have tried to echo his sentiment in the second stanza.