Huddersfield Chronicle (29/Dec/1893) - Our Dead President
Composed on the death of Mr. Charles Holliday, the President of the Huddersfield Rugby Club.
OUR DEAD PRESIDENT.
- Our flag’s bright wing now droops half-mast.
Shading within its fold
The colours of H.C.A.C.,
Our dear “Claret and Gold;”
Its golden streaks blend with the red,
The twain in sorrow hide
Their brilliancy, as though they mourned
The loss of the club’s guide.
- The genial eyes that oft have gleamed,
Beneath its flapping wing,
Are dimmed for ever, while the smile
Which oft, which e’er did cling
Around his generous, manly face
Is fixed, never again
To answer friend responsively,
Among the haunts of men.
- His gentle and his guiding word
Is hushed to silence now.
The Warm glow of his kindly heart,
Has left but pallid brow,
The hand's firm grip of friendliness,
Which ne’er its bounty knew,
Is still, is cold, is vanished, is
For ever lost to view.
- The flag will flow, as sways the breeze.
As seasons come and go,
But never more before his eyes
Will its bright colours glow;
Vet though no more, his influence speaks
Unto his fellow-men.
Whose hearts are sad, they feel they ne'er
Will see his like again.