NOT only master of his art was he, But master of his spirit -- winged indeed For lordliest height, yet poised for lowliest need Of those, alas! upheld less buoyantly. He gloried even in adversity, And won his country's plaudits, and the meed Of Old World praise, as one loath to succeed While others were denied like victory. Though passed, I count him still my master-friend, Invincible as through his mortal fight, -- The laughing light of faith still in his eye As, at his wintry tent, pitched at the end Of life, he gaily called to me "Good night, Old friend, good night -- for there is no good-by." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO OUR MOCKING-BIRD; DIED OF A CAT, MAY, 1878 by SIDNEY LANIER PARTING LOVERS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING CHRISMUS ON THE PLANTATION by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 14 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |