Stone, upon which with hands of boy and man He framed the history of his time until, Week after week the varying record ran To its half-centuried tale of well and ill. Remember now how true through all those days He was: friend, brother, husband, father, son; Fill the whole limit of your space with praise; There needs no room for blame: blame there was none. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CRYSTAL CABINET by WILLIAM BLAKE HIC VIR, HIC EST' by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY EASTER by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE FORGOTTEN GRAVE by EMILY DICKINSON OPEN, TIME by LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY THE BLINDED BIRD by THOMAS HARDY |