Thy converse drew us with delight, The men of rathe and riper years; The feeble soul, a haunt of fears, Forgot his weakness in thy sight. On thee the loyal-hearted hung, The proud was half disarm'd of pride, Nor cared the serpent at thy side To flicker with his double tongue. The stern were mild when thou wert by, The flippant put himself to school And heard thee, and the brazen fool Was soften'd, and he knew not why; While I, thy nearest, sat apart, And felt thy triumph was as mine; And loved them more, that they were thine, The graceful tact, the Christian art; Nor mine the sweetness or the skill, But mine the love that will not tire, And, born of love, the vague desire That spurs an imitative will. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO HIM THAT WAS CRUCIFIED by WALT WHITMAN PSALM 67 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE SOUL TO THE BODY by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON PAYSAGE MUET by MARTIN CHESLEY HANDS: THE GARDENER by KATE M. CHIDESTER FUNERAL ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF HIS VERY GOOD FRIEND MR. MICHAEL DRAYTON by ASTON COCKAYNE |