GIFTED, and loved and praised By every friend; Never a murmur raised Against him, to the end! With tireless interest He wrought as he thought best, -- And -- lo, we bend Where now he takes his rest! His heart was loyal, to Its latest thrill, To the home-loves he knew -- And now forever will, -- Mother and brother -- they The first to pass away, -- And, lingering still, The sister bowed to-day. Pure as a rose might be, And sweet, and white, His father's memory Was with him day and night: -- He spoke of him, as one May now speak of the son, -- Sadly and tenderly, Yet as a trump had done. Say, then, of him: He knew Full depths of care And stress of pain, and you Do him scant justice there, -- Yet in the lifted face Grief left not any trace, Nor mark unfair, To mar its manly grace. It was as if each day Some new hope dawned -- Each blessing in delay, To him, was just beyond; Between whiles, waiting, he Drew pictures cunningly -- Fantastic -- fond -- Things that we laughed to see. Sometimes, as we looked on His crayon's work, Some angel-face would dawn Out radiant, from the mirk Of features old and thin, Or jowled with double-chin, And eyes asmirk, And gaping mouths agrin. That humor in his art, Of genius born, Welled warmly from a heart That could not but adorn All things it touched with love -- The eagle, as the dove -- The burst of morn -- The night -- the stars above. Sometimes, amid the wild Of faces queer, A mother, with her child Pressed warm and close to her; This, I have thought, somehow, The wife, with head abow, Unreconciled, In the great shadow now. . . . . . . . O ye of sobbing breath, Put by all sighs Of anguish at his death -- Turn -- as he turned @3his@1 eyes, In that last hour, unknown In strange lands, all alone -- Turn thine eyes toward the skies, And, smiling, cease thy moan. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BALLAD WHICH ANNE ASKEW MADE AND SANG WHEN SHE WAS IN NEWGATE by ANNE ASKEWE MY LADY'S PLEASURE by ROBERT GRAHAM THE GILLYFLOWER OF GOLD by WILLIAM MORRIS (1834-1896) MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 14 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THEOCRITUS; A VILLANELLE by OSCAR WILDE ON THE STATUE OF AN ANGEL, BY BIENAIME by WASHINGTON ALLSTON |