If I remember the liner notes right, this particular poem is a part of a much larger Robert Bridges poem, written for the 200th anniversary of the death of Henry Purcell (who died in 1695, so 1895). I ran across it because Gustav Holst (my favorite composer) used it in a choral piece in 1931 or so. Anyway, just thought I'd share it, not sure where to place poetry on the new site ... here seems good for now.

(Author - Robert Bridges)

Rejoice, ye dead, where'er your spirits dwell,
Rejoice that yet on earth your fame is bright,
And that your names, remember'd day and night,
Live on the lips of those who love you well.
'Tis ye that have conquer'd the powers of Hell
Each with the special grace of your delight;
Ye are the world's creators, and by might
Alone of Heavenly love ye did excel.

Now ye are starry names
Behind the sun ye climb
To light the glooms of Time
With deathless flames.