 | Poems at Home and Abroad |  |
82
At Ruskin's Grave
On His Birthday, 8th February, 1900.
To greet his natal day the heavens had lent
Unto his rest their fitting garniture,
The snow had fallen innocently pure
O'er him whose life was pure and innocent.
One way, it seemed, the footmarks all were bent,
As if the mounded earth had magic lure,
From out the grave to cheer and reassure,
A spirit voice continually was sent.
Unto his rest their fitting garniture,
The snow had fallen innocently pure
O'er him whose life was pure and innocent.
One way, it seemed, the footmarks all were bent,
As if the mounded earth had magic lure,
From out the grave to cheer and reassure,
A spirit voice continually was sent.
The silver mountains called from bluest air,
But he had entered to his prophet's cell,
New thought in deeper quietude to take;
While from an unassailable citadel
In holy ground, beside the tranquil lake,
Came forth his mind to make the world more fair.
But he had entered to his prophet's cell,
New thought in deeper quietude to take;
While from an unassailable citadel
In holy ground, beside the tranquil lake,
Came forth his mind to make the world more fair.
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