THOUGH our great love a little wrong his fame, And seeing him with such familiar eyes We say "how kind" more often than "how wise," Such is the simple reverence he would claim; He would not have us call him by a name Higher than that of friend, -- yet by this grave We feel the saint not pure, nor hero brave, And all the martyr's patience put to shame. Brother, we leave thee by thy sister's side; Whom such a love bound let not death divide; She is at peace, now, brother, thou canst rest; Thy long sad guardianship of love is o'er, And gentle Shakespeare on the dead men's shore Salutes thy gentle ghost that praised him best. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OUR COUNTRY'S CALL by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT TO THE ROSE UPON THE ROOD OF TIME by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS A DESCRIPTION OF LONDON by JOHN BANCKS BILL SWEENY OF THE BLACK GANG by JAMES BARNES STANZAS TO A FRIEND by BERNARD BARTON |