'On n'y lit aucun nom.' -- VICTOR HUGO. HERE sleeps, at last, in narrow bed, A man of whom, whate'er is spoken, This may with certainty be said His promises were never broken. He boasted no high-sounding name, Or graced with academic letters; He paid his way though, all the same, And -- more than once -- forgave his debtors. He never joined the cry of those Who prate about the Public Morals; But reconciled some private foes, And patched up sundry standing quarrels. It never came within his plan To 'demonstrate' on Want or Labour; He strove to serve his fellow-man, And did his best to love his neighbour. When Doubt disturbed his honest soul, He found in this his consolation: -- We see a part, and not the whole, With only scant illumination. And this, at least, he felt was sure: -- To give the sick man's hurt a plaster, To soothe the pain no art can cure, -- Was but the bidding of his Master. So, all unpraised, he ran his race; But we, who watched his life, and knew it, Thus mark his nameless resting-place, Because he died too poor to do it. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 11 by JAMES JOYCE DOMESDAY BOOK: BARRETT BAYS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS AMERICA TO GREAT BRITAIN by WASHINGTON ALLSTON SPRING by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY SONG: 1 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD OTHER SPRINGS by ROSEMARY BASEFLUG ASOLANDO: THE BEAN-FEAST by ROBERT BROWNING |