Ah! you who own the sovereign sway 

 Of commerce and the busy mart, 

 You knew him not, he lived apart. 



The Iting who passed in state to-day. 



A king who recked not worldly gear, 

 A pauper — you who rate by gold. 

 But rich in knowledge manifold, 



In Nature's lore without a peer. 



He lived his threescore years and ten ; 



He had his court of liegemen true; 



They loved him, like that chosen few 

 Who served the Master scorned of men. 



"He is no king of ours," you say, 

 "We know him not"; yet bare the head, 

 Pay you your tribute, he is dead, 



I saw him pass in state to-day. 



II. 



To bow the knee he was not planned 

 With willowy grace and pliant form; 

 Like stalwart oak he faced the storm 



And bore the brunt — a monarch grand. 



A shock of rebel locks upreared 

 Above the forehead bold and high; 

 'Neath shaggy brow the deep-set eye 



Challenged enquiry; grizzled beard 



Part hid his lip; a man endued 



With power of thought, you read the 

 face; 



The Maker moulds in some for grace, 

 For strength those rugged features hewed. 



In mind and will maturest man, 

 A boy at heart; his eager quest 

 Of Nature's ways the boy confessed, 



But through it all endurance ran. 



Trinity College School, Port Hope . 



Bend as they might the sturdy frame 

 And quell the lustre of the eye, 

 Not years could daunt the purpose high 



Or quench the ardent spirit's flame. 



III. 



Greybeard and youth, a thoughtful throng. 

 Would gather round their Scottish sage. 

 Right gladly youth give place to age. 



Listen and learn and ponder long. 



Was life's dark riddle hard to read? 



His vibrant tones would cheer. Were 



there 

 Who questioned truth? who fought 

 despair? 

 He welcomed all, nor asked their creed. 



Did ihey in earnest seek? He sought 

 In earnest too. From bounteous store 

 He loved with lavish hand to pour 



Jewels of knowledge and of thought. 



Responsive hearts, unwavering eyes 

 His steadfast gaze compelled again; 

 He loved the truth, his speech was plain, 



He could not stoop to compromise. 



IV. 



Oh! all too rare the thoughtful mind 

 That keeps abreast of Science way 

 And still reveres the older day, 



The simpler faith that lags behind. 



Dead now, but while the ages run 

 His work shall live; 'tis such as he 

 Alone inspire posterity. 



Fathering their kind from son to son. 



"We know not when our days are sped, 

 And I, who through his friendship stand. 

 Would lift some falterer by the hand 



Ere I lie nerveless with the dead. 



—Frank Morris. 



ri3oi 



