Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/328

300 SYRIA

THE DEAD POET

A. H.

was the love of art and song,

And well he loved the flowery way;

Yet great his wrath at prospered wrong;

When evil triumphed day by day

Then plunged he in the fray.

And when brave innocence went down

Then did the vanquished find a friend.

With him went justice through the town;

No foeman ever saw him bend;

He scorn for scorn could send.

Men said his heritage was lost;

For, born to gentler use, his youth

Was wasted in rude strife; the cost

Too great, they deemed, altho', in sooth,

Through him men learned of Truth.