He listened to the mighty lyre of earth,
And learned the lore of soul-compelling song.
He pondered on the rune of right and wrong,
And saw the hearts of men, their woe, their mirth.
In him our vision had a second birth,
For by his words we saw as in some strong
Enchanted lens the conscience of the throng,
The font of ill, the hidden source of worth.
Shall Death claim him, on deathless knowledge reared?
Shall dreams o’ertake the Master of the dream?
Nay, his perfect love that never feared,
His words send through our grief a radiant gleam:
“With Life and Death I walked and Love appeared
And made them on each side a shadow seem.”