The larch in spring.

 
Even in the darkest hour,
with love and that English bower,
you spoke so gentle and true,
all hope sang you.
 
The British Rail train,
moves out of the station,
such was the people's nation,
that sense of the common
and rainbow rain.
 
After the long march,
we signed on at Hyde Park,
to hear you say the charge of the day,
down at Greenham came the May.
 
Those old campaign soldiers,
that defended our welfare,
such the dream of taking care,
you held fast to the last,
a sunny day when all is at the miner's fair.
 
~

For Tony Benn.