 | The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe |  |
A POET'S ELEGY.
Here rests, at last, from worldly care and strife,
A gentle man-of-rhyme,
Not all unknown to fame,—whose lays and life
Fell short of the sublime.
A gentle man-of-rhyme,
Not all unknown to fame,—whose lays and life
Fell short of the sublime.
Yet, as his poems ('t was the critics' praise)
Betrayed a careful mind,
His life, with less of license than his lays,
To Virtue was inclined.
Betrayed a careful mind,
His life, with less of license than his lays,
To Virtue was inclined.
Whate'er of Wit the kindly Muse supplied
He ever strove to bend
To Folly's hurt; nor once with wanton pride
Employed to pain a friend.
He ever strove to bend
To Folly's hurt; nor once with wanton pride
Employed to pain a friend.
He loved a quip, but in his jesting vein
With studious care effaced
The doubtful word that threatened to profane
The sacred or the chaste.
With studious care effaced
The doubtful word that threatened to profane
The sacred or the chaste.
He loathed the covert, diabolic jeer
That conscience undermines;
No hinted sacrilege nor skeptic sneer
Lurks in his laughing lines.
That conscience undermines;
No hinted sacrilege nor skeptic sneer
Lurks in his laughing lines.
With satire's sword to pierce the false and wrong;
A ballad to invent
That bore a wholesome sermon in the song,—
Such was the poet's bent.
A ballad to invent
That bore a wholesome sermon in the song,—
Such was the poet's bent.
In social converse, “happy as a king.”
When colder men refrained
From daring flights, he gave his fancy wing
And freedom unrestrained.
When colder men refrained
From daring flights, he gave his fancy wing
And freedom unrestrained.
And golden thoughts, at times,—a motley brood,—
Came flashing from the mine;
And fools who saw him in his merry mood
Accused the untasted wine.
Came flashing from the mine;
And fools who saw him in his merry mood
Accused the untasted wine.
He valued friendship's favor more than fame,
And paid his social dues;
He loved his Art,—but held his manly name
Far dearer than his Muse.
And paid his social dues;
He loved his Art,—but held his manly name
Far dearer than his Muse.
And partial friends, while gayly laughing o'er
The merry lines they quote,
Say with a sigh, “To us the man was more
Than aught he ever wrote!”
The merry lines they quote,
Say with a sigh, “To us the man was more
Than aught he ever wrote!”
| The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe | |