Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/322

294 A whiff of wholesome folly;

The escapade, the dance;

A touch of wild romance:

Wake from this self-conscious fit;

Give us again Sir Walter's wit;

His love of earth, of sky, of life;

His ringing page with humor rife;

His never-weary pen;

His love of men!

II

Builder of landscape, who could make

Turret and tower their stations take

Brave in the face of the sun;

Of many a mimic world creator,

Alive with fight and strenuous fun;

Of nothing human he the hater.

Nobly could he plan:

Master of nature, master of man.

III

Sometimes I think that He who made us,

And on this pretty planet laid us,

Made us to work and play

Like children in the light of day—

Not like plodders in the dark,

Searching with lanterns for some mark

To find the way.

After the stroke of pain,

Up and to work again!

IV

Such was his life, without reproach or fear:

A lonely fight before the last eclipse—