‘Farewell, Romance!’ the Cave-men said;
  ‘With bone well carved He went away,
Flint arms the ignoble arrowhead,
  And jasper tips the spear to-day.
Changed are the Gods of Hunt and Dance,
And He with these.  Farewell, Romance!’
 
'Farewell, Romance!’ the Lake-folk sighed;
  ‘We lift the weight of flatling years;
The caverns of the mountain-side
  Hold him who scorns our hutted piers.
Lost hills whereby we dare not dwell,
Guard ye his rest.  Romance, farewell!’
 
‘Farewell, Romance!’ the Soldier spoke;
  ‘By sleight of sword we may not win,
But scuffle 'mid uncleanly smoke
  Of arquebus* and culverin**.        *an early type of gun supported on a tripod  **an early type of cannon or pistol
Honour is lost, and none may tell
Who paid good blows.  Romance, farewell!’
 
‘Farewell, Romance!’ the Traders cried;
  ‘Our keels have lain with every sea;
The dull-returning wind and tide
  Heave up the wharf where we would be;
The known and noted breezes swell
Our trudging sails. Romance, farewell!’
 
‘Good-bye, Romance!’ the Skipper said;
  ‘He vanished with the coal we burn.
Our dial marks full-steam ahead,
  Our speed is timed to half a turn.
Sure as the ferried barge we ply
'Twixt port and port.  Romance, good-bye!’
 
‘Romance!’ the season-tickets mourn,
  ‘He never ran to catch His train,
But passed with coach and guard and horn —
  And left the local — late again!’
Confound Romance!’...  And all unseen
Romance brought up the nine-fifteen.
 
His hand was on the lever laid,
  His oil-can soothed the worrying cranks,
His whistle waked the snowbound grade,
  His fog-horn cut the reeking Banks;
By dock and deep and mine and mill
The Boy-god reckless laboured still!
 
Robed, crowned and throned, He wove His spell,
  Where heart-blood beat or hearth-smoke curled,
With unconsidered miracle,
  Hedged in a backward-gazing world;
Then taught His chosen bard to say:
‘Our King was with us — yesterday!’

 = Richard Titus