248
"Here Lies Oliver Goldsmith"
I know The Traveller bade them lay
Anigh the street his weary clay,
Because he saw in all things good,
And heard above the thundering street
The brave young Lark that singeth sweet
Of helping hands and brotherhood.
He knew what it is good to know,
When down the Dale o'Dreams we go—
That living brothers still are near;
And some struck sore in battle-test
Come to our side, a moment rest,
Then back to buffet with a cheer.
Ah, Noll, thou singest yet, though dead,
A song that calms our coward dread
Of Life and Life s benumbing din.
With larger faith I turn me back
To where the stream runs strong and black,
And, greatly hoping, plunge me in.
