Classic Poem

Let us crown Edwin. Though he wear
The crown already of his Art,
Grateful Manhattan's mighty mart
May well a civic garland spare
For one who hath deserved so well
Of his whole country, carrying far
And wide the great enchanter's spell,
Under whose thralldom we all are.
Yet not alone his laurel twine
With civil oak. The poet's bays
And critic's ivy should combine
Besides, to speak our actor's praise.
For he hath educated men,
(Who knew none other lore but this),
Making past history live again, —
A lofty mark which many miss!
Through him those rough lads of the West
That never slept beneath a roof,
Men from the mountains, tempest-proof,
Gold-hunters, rugged and untaught,
Feel Romeo's passion fill their breast,
Or Hamlet's wisdom swell their thought.
Even the great Marlborough, we are told,
More history learned from Shakespeare's page
Then Holinshed's; nor seems it bold
To guess that many a sapient sage,
As well as soldier, may have known
More of mankind from gifted bards
Than chroniclers, though he had grown
Gray o'er the schoolroom's history-cards.

TO THE PLAYERS

Players! I ask your benison for this wreath:
Oh, read the name that here is writ beneath
Approvingly, as of all words the one
Most fit to glorify the sire and son!
Perchance the coming centuries will say,
There was a home by Massachusetts Bay,
Whence children came to keep that flame alive
Which Edwin kindled, and may long survive
Till each America, both North and South,
Shall speak him honor with a single mouth,
And England's language from the Arctic main
To San Rosario's watch-tower hold one reign.

TO MR. BOOTH

Tragedian, teacher, take the crown
Where love her myrtle with our laurel blends:
These portals open to large troops of friends,
But I behold, to cherish thy renown,
A line, aye stretching, as in Banquo's glass,
Of thousands coming after these do pass.