Classic Poem

A kingly name! and like a king
He wore it, — bearing mortal pain,
And ev'ry ill that Fate could bring,
With calm disdain.

A kingly name! a name of grace!
My heart repeats it, o'er and o'er,
With love and pride, — but his dear face
I see no more.

And I must never, never see,
In all this world of bleak distress,
Those eyes that only looked on me
To love and bless.

Those eyes, that spoke the constant mind,
That patient smile, that heart of gold, —
So true, so tender, and so kind, —
Are dark and cold.

A kingly name! But names of kings
Are shadows, and for me, bereft,
This shadow, 'mid substantial things,
Alone is left.

Yet not alone, while Thought can keep,
And deathless Love its glamor cast
To brighten, in the realm of sleep,
The sacred Past.

For faithful Memory fondly weaves
Her rainbow web of smiles and tears
O'er all that ruthless ruin leaves
Of treasur'd years:

The careless sports of Long Ago,
The scholar's calm, the comrade's mirth,
Quaint humor, and the poet's glow,
Transfig'ring earth:

And still Remembrance fondly dwells
On patience sweet, and courage high,
And gentle dignity that tells
The way to die.

His hope was blighted in its morn;
His life was blasted in its bloom;
But honor, love, and grief adorn
His early tomb.

And I, who should have gone before,
To light the path and point the way,
Remain, in anguish, to deplore
His darken'd day;

To wonder that the hand of doom
Should smite the young, and grimly leave
Dejected age, in twilight gloom,
To pine and grieve;

To look upon the vacant chair,
To dream that, in a little while,
I shall again behold him there,
And see him smile;

To love him, as with love divine,
To mourn him with a father's tear,
To bless his slumber, and to shrine
His memory here.