STRANGER! behold, interred together, The souls of learning and of leather. Poor Joe is gone, but left his all: You'll find his relics in a stall. His works were neat, and often found Well stitch'd, and with morocco bound. Tread lightly -- where the bard is laid He cannot mend the shoe he made; Yet is he happy in his hole, With verse immortal as his sole. But still to business he held fast, And stuck to Phoebus to the last. Then who shall say so good a fellow Was only 'leather and prunella?' For character -- he did not lack it; And if he did, 't were shame to 'Black-it.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHAT THE BULLET SANG by FRANCIS BRET HARTE THE CHARGE AT SANTIAGO by WILLIAM HAMILTON HAYNE SONNET: 8. WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO THE CITY by JOHN MILTON ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 64 by PHILIP SIDNEY SERENADE by JEAN FRANCOIS VICTOR AICARD LOVE IN EXILE: L'ENVOI by MATHILDE BLIND KASSANDRA PROPHESIES by GORDON BOTTOMLEY RECIPROCAL KINDNESS THE PRIMARY LAW OF NATURE by VINCENT BOURNE |