If living in fairy-land as really now
As when heaven's dew was fresh on childhood's brow;
If seeing, in fine, this world as through a prism
Of lovely colors be true optimism,
Then Jefferson is true optimist no less,
And Heaven sent both this troubled world to bless.
THE PASSING OF JOSEPH JEFFERSON
Some element from nature seems withdrawn,
The world we lived in being of his spirit wrought—
His brightness, sweetness, tender gayety,
His childlike, wistful, and half-humorous faith
That turned this harsh earth into fairy-land.
He made our world, and now our world is changed.
The sunniest nature his that ever breathed;
Most lovable of all the sons of men;
Who built his joy on making others happy;
Like Jesus, lover of the hills and shores,
And like him to the beasts and flowers kin,
And with a brother's love for all mankind,
But chiefly for the loving—tho' the lost.
In his own art,—ineffable, serene,
And mystical (not less to nature true
And to the heart of man),—his was the power
To shed a light of love on human waifs
And folk of simple soul. Where'er he went,
Sweet childhood followed and all childlike hearts.
His very presence made a holiday—
Affectionate laughter and quick, unsad tears.
Now, he being gone, the sun shines not so bright
