What is there to gloss or shun? Save with kindly voices none Speak thy name beneath the sun. Safe thou art on every side, Friendship nothing finds to hide, Love's demand is satisfied. Over manly strength and worth, At thy desk of toil, or hearth, Played the lambent light of mirth,-- Mirth that lit, but never burned; All thy blame to pity turned; Hatred thou hadst never learned. Every harsh and vexing thing At thy home-fire lost its sting; Where thou wast was always spring. And thy perfect trust in good, Faith in man and womanhood, Chance and change and time, withstood. Small respect for cant and whine, Bigot's zeal and hate malign, Had that sunny soul of thine. But to thee was duty's claim Sacred, and thy lips became Reverent with one holy Name. Therefore, on thy unknown way, Go in God's peace! We who stay But a little while delay. Keep for us, O friend, where'er Thou art waiting, all that here Made thy earthly presence dear; Something of thy pleasant past On a ground of wonder cast, In the stiller waters glassed! Keep the human heart of thee; Let the mortal only be Clothed in immortality. And when fall our feet as fell Thine upon the asphodel, Let thy old smile greet us well; Proving in a world of bliss What we fondly dream in this,-- Love is one with holiness! 1881. WILSON Read at the Massachusetts Club on the seventieth anniversary the birthday of Vice-President Wilson, February 16, 1882. The lowliest born of all the land, He wrung from Fate's reluctant hand The gifts which happier boyhood claims; And, tasting on a thankless soil The bitter bread of unpaid toil, He fed his soul with noble aims. And Nature, kindly provident, To him the future's promise lent; The powers that shape man's destinies, Patience and faith and toil, he knew, The close horizon round him grew, Broad with great possibilities. By the low hearth-fire's fitful blaze He read of old heroic days, The sage's thought, the patriot's speech; Unhelped, alone, himself he taught, His school the craft at which he wrought, His lore the book within his, reach. He felt his country's need; he knew The work her children had to do; And when, at last, he heard the call In her behalf to serve and dare, Beside his senatorial chair He stood the unquestioned peer of all. Beyond the accident of birth He proved his simple manhood's worth; Ancestral pride and classic grace Confessed the large-brained artisan, So clear of sight, so wise in plan And counsel, equal to his place.