Classic Poem

The world stands tearfully and holds its breath,
Wrapt in a speechless trance of grief and wonder
To hear the story of a great man's death
In mutterings of thunder.

The sad news hushes shouts of party strife;
No cold disparagement one murmur raises;
And those who were his bitterest foes in life
Are first to speak his praises.

An honest, fearless, simple-minded man,
Of purpose firm and earnest high endeavour,
Whose name shall live till history's latest span,
A talisman for ever.

The foremost spirit in his native land,
Framing unflinchingly his great life story;
Torn from his toil by a base dastard's hand
In his mid-hour of glory,

Labouring to strike the shackles from the slave,
And build a work whose fame shall be eternal:—
Freedom shall lay her chaplet on his grave,
And keep it green and vernal.

We think of him and cannot feel resigned—
Lost to his vast designs when most they need him,
And marvel where his countrymen will find
One worthy to succeed him.