NO paler monk than Father Charles, and none so gaunt or lean, Since monks in academic air or cloister walls were seen; The ravages of fatal war saw many dear ones fall, But he in peace and at our side, seemed nearer death than all. An ice-cold hand was his, drear omen of decay! The best of brandy, hottest baths, drove not that chill away; We used to have nice dishes cooked to tempt his appetite, And many a damsel made him cake, his palate to invite; But all in vain, his feeble shape kindred to death appeared, Beyond comparison he failed, his eye grew wild and bleared. After his daily nap, less strength and less he got; 'Twas not advancing age, no, all his years had not Rent one dark hair from off his brow, or with maturing gray, Spreading his tonsured crown, worn his thick locks away; But memory bleeds to think how suddenly he died— His neck when we fell on, "Do not this thing," he cried, "To duty constant, I no pleasure ever loved, Can't one poor mortal thus a real saint be proved?" His spirit, loth to quit, oft flickered ere it fled, At last his pulse met Zero, and Father Charles was dead. He had a monster funeral, the Queen's Town Clerk came down, Ordered the bells to toll and over all the town They rang, both old and new; burgher and magistrate Came crowding where in old St. John's his body lay in state With THIRTY BURIED CITIES upon his reverend pate. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ECHOES: 7 by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY THE DAY OF JUDGEMENT; AN ODE ATTEMPTED IN ENGLISH SAPPHIC by ISAAC WATTS VERSES DESIGNED TO BE SENT TO MR. ADAMS by ELIZABETH FRANCES AMHERST THE MISTAKE by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE VERMONT FOR A LITTLE GIRL by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY LA VITA NUOVA: 2 by DANTE ALIGHIERI HOME ON THE COLUMBIA by SUSIE B. DILLARD |