AMONG the many lives that I have known, None I remember more serene and sweet, More rounded in itself and more complete, Than his, who lies beneath this funeral stone. These pines, that murmur in low monotone, These walks frequented by scholastic feet, Were all his world; but in this calm retreat For him the teacher's chair became a throne. With fond affection memory loves to dwell On the old days, when his example made A pastime of the toil of tongue and pen; And now, amid the groves he loved so well That naught could lure him from their grateful shade, He sleeps, but wakes elsewhere, for God hath said, Amen! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NAPOLEON by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE THE CHURCH FLOORE by GEORGE HERBERT ACCIDENT IN ART by RICHARD HOVEY THE CALL OF THE WILD by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE THAT GENERAL UTILITY RAG, BY OUR OWN IRVING BERLIN by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 24, ASKING FOR HER HEART (2) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT MY ENEMY by ALICE WILLIAMS BROTHERTON ON THE RIGHT HONOURABLE CHARLES, LORD HERBERT by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) VERSES UNDER A PRINT, REPRESENTING CHRIST IN THE MIDST OF THE DOCTORS by JOHN BYROM |