The Age of Shakespeare

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To the memory of Charles Lamb[edit]

   When stark oblivion froze above their names
      Whose glory shone round Shakespeare's, bright as now,
   One eye beheld their light shine full as fame's,
      One hand unveiled it: this did none but thou.
   Love, stronger than forgetfulness and sleep,
      Rose, and bade memory rise, and England hear:
   And all the harvest left so long to reap
      Shone ripe and rich in every sheaf and ear.

   A child it was who first by grace of thine
   Communed with gods who share with thee their shrine:
      Elder than thou wast ever now I am,
   Now that I lay before thee in thanksgiving
   Praise of dead men divine and everliving
      Whose praise is thine as thine is theirs, Charles Lamb.