(W. F. Stoutenburgh)

His voice was gentle and his eyes were kind; No one among us but did call him friend; Fond woman’s heart and student’s thoughtful mind Together in him did with fitness blend: And now he is no more!

We blindly murmur at the bitter Fate That summoned him in other lands to roam; And when upon him Sickness wrought its hate Half round the world, it brought him almost home, To die when near our shore.

We blindly murmur--but we only know Calm rests his body in old Ocean’s deeps; While we are groping in the mists below, Serene his soul on other, cloudless steeps-- Forever--evermore.