Classic Poem

What shall we say of him whose words of weight
Swayed his rapt hearers, and whose Attic phrase
Charmed at the board all guests in happier days?
'Tis now — Bleak House — indeed! — where once, elate,
He showered hospitality, till fate
Called him beyond the chorus of our praise —
Him whose broad intellect, in a thousand ways,
Brought honor to his region and the State.
The highest eulogies, when all is said,
Are futile still, and show him but in part,
Yet I would pay some homage to the dead:
Let me, recalling through that life of stress
The unfailing fountain of his kindliness,
Offer my tribute to his golden heart.