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...MACFLECKNOE; OR, A SATIRE UPON THE TRUE-BLUE-PROTESTANT POET by JOHN DRYDEN THE POOL by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR SONGS WITH PRELUDES: REGRET by JEAN INGELOW TO EDWARD FITZGERALD by ALFRED TENNYSON THE CHARWOMAN by GEORGE LAWRENCE ANDREWS A VISION OF CHILDREN by THOMAS ASHE THE OLD HOUSE by LAURENCE BINYON STRUCTURAL IRON WORKERS by MACKNIGHT BLACK WAR AUTOBIOGRAPHY; WRITTEN IN ILLNESS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |