Classic Poem

T H ' old man, our amiable old man is gone—
Second in harmless pleasantry to none.
Ye, once his pupils, who with rev'rence just
View'd him, as all that were his pupils must,
Whether, his health yet firm, he gently strove
To rear and form you with a parent's love,
Or worn with age, and pleas'd to be at large,
He came still mindful of his former charge,
To smile on this glad circle ev'ry year,
And charm you with his humour, drop a tear.
Simplicity grac'd all his blameless life,
And he was kind, and gentle, hating strife.
Content was the best wealth he ever shar'd,
Though all men pay'd him love, and one , reward.
Ye titles! we have here no need of you,
Go, give the Great ones their eulogium due,
If Fortune more on others chose to shine,
'Twas not in Him to murmur or repine.
Placid old man! the turf upon thy breast,
May it lie lightly, sacred be thy rest;
Though, living, thou hadst none thy fame to spread,
Nor ev'n a stone to chronicle thee, dead.