 | In Memoriam, Izaak Walton, Obiit. 15th December, 1683 |  |
THE ‘LIVES.’
The pen, that wrote these ‘Lives,’—a poet said,—Dropped from an angel's wing. Yes, well we know,
That Izaak dwelt in fellowship below
With angels; that for ever, round his head,
Their halo hovers, like a blessing shed.
Angel of Truth, Angel of Holiness,—
Your light it was—your sacred strength and stress—
Guided, upheld him, till his task was sped.
Angels of Love and Ruth, ye sat, meek-eyed,
Singing within his soul—that tenderest note,
That wove its witchery through each page he wrote,
Till Herbert grew divine, Donne, glorified.
Rare ‘Lives’! that whoso reads, to him is given
To pace the precincts of the courts of Heaven.
| In Memoriam, Izaak Walton, Obiit. 15th December, 1683 | |