Classic Poem

While yet my harp retains its youthful tone,
And rings responsive to the voice of song;
Ere the cold world shall leave the Bard alone,
While yet my feelings are unstained and strong, —
Thou who wouldst make the slaves of England free,
I weave this tribute of regard to thee.

Thou hast a head for knowledge and for truth, —
Thou hast a heart for friendship and for love;
And though the world may bind thee down, in sooth,
Thy soul doth often take a flight above
The vulgar level of ignoble things,
Sweeping the realms of thought with vigorous wings.

My chequered lot may yet be darker still, —
For thee , old Time may have bright days in store;
But through our brief existence, good or ill,
May our two hearts but sympathise the more,
Without one hour of coldness, care, or strife,
To fling its shadow on the path of life.