Breaking the barriers that, of different height For rich and poor, were barriers still for all; Till “out of mind” was one with “out of sight,” And parted souls oft parted past recall. Freeing from tax unwise the interchange Of distant mind with mind and mart with mart; Releasing thought from bars that clipped its range; Lightening a load felt most i' the weakest part. What if the wings he made so strong and wide Bear burdens with their blessings? Own that all For which his bold thought we oft hear decried, Of laden bag, too frequent postman's call, Is nothing to the threads of love and light Shot, thanks to him, through life's web dark and wide, Nor only where he first unsealed men's sight, But far as pulse of time and flow of tide! Was it a little thing to think this out? Yet none till he had hit upon the thought; And, the thought brought to birth, came sneer and flout Of all his insight saw, his wisdom taught. All office doors were closed against him—hard; All office heads were closed against him too. He had but worked, like others, for reward. “The thing was all a dream.” “It would not do.” But this was not a vaguely dreaming man, A windbag of the known Utopian kind; He had thought out, wrought out, in full, his plan; 'Twas the far-seeing fighting with the blind. And the far-seeing won his way at last, Though pig-headed Obstruction's force died hard; Denied his due, official bitters cast, Into the cup wrung slowly from their guard. But not until the country, wiser far Than those who ruled it, with an angry cry, Seeing its soldiers 'gainst it waging war, At last said resolutely, “Stand you by! “And let him in to do what he has said, And you do not, and will not let him do.” And so at last the fight he fought was sped, Thought at less cost freer and further flew. And all the world was kindlier, closer knit, And all man's written word can bring to man Had easier ways of transit made for it, And none sat silent under poortith's ban When severed from his own, as in old days. And this we owe to one sagacious brain, By one kind heart well guided, that in ways Of life laborious sturdy strength had ta'en. And his reward came, late, but sweeter so, In the wide sway that his wise thought had won: He was as one whose seed to tree should grow, Who hears him blest that sowed it 'gainst the sun. So love and honour made his grey hairs bright, And while most things he hoped to fulness came, And many ills he warred with were set right, Good work and good life joined to crown his name. And now that he is dead we see how great The good work done, the good life lived how brave, And through all crosses hold him blest of fate, Placing this wreath upon his honoured grave! —_Punch_, 20th September 1879 FOOTNOTES: