(Obiit, April 5, 1886.)
Oh honest, stalwart man whose earnest face
Mirrored the soul within; whose every deed
Made answer to thy word; who gav'st no heed
To foolish babble or the lust of place.
Who, grieved to see thy country's hapless case
For lack of knowledge, help'st to aid her need,
Bestowing all she wished; whose civic creed
Was not of party, but took in the race.
A year has passed since thou wert laid to rest,
Yet is thy memory fragrant; thy bequest
A work whose scope and grandeur none can gauge.
England some day, her daughter-lands apart
No longer, will recall with pride of heart
Who showedst the way to gain her heritage.