The churl in spirit, up or down Along the scale of ranks, thro' all, To him who grasps a golden ball, By blood a king, at heart a clown, -- The churl in spirit, howe'er he veil His want in forms for fashion's sake, Will let his coltish nature break At seasons thro' the gilded pale; For who can always act? but he, To whom a thousand memories call, Not being less but more than all The gentleness he seem'd to be, Best seem'd the thing he was, and join'd Each office of the social hour To noble manners, as the flower And native growth of noble mind; Nor ever narrowness or spite, Or villain fancy fleeting by, Drew in the expression of an eye Where God and Nature met in light; And thus he bore without abuse The grand old name of gentleman, Defamed by every charlatan, And soil'd with all ignoble use. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MADRIGAL: 1 by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN EPICOENE; OR, THE SILENT WOMAN: FREEDOM IN DRESS by BEN JONSON A WINTER WISH by ROBERT HINCKLEY MESSINGER MILK FOR THE CAT by HAROLD MONRO LILIES: 13. 'LET US NEVER COMFORT EACH OTHER INTO SLEEP' by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |