Mary Hannay Foott
For Charles Dickens
Above our dear Romancer's dust
Grief takes the place of praise,
Because of sudden cypress thrust
Amid the old-earned bays.
Ah! when shall such another friend
By England's fireside sit,
To tell her of her faults, yet blend
Sage words with kindly wit?
He brings no pageants of the past
To wile our hearts away;
But wins our love for those who cast
Their lot with ours to-day.
He gives us laughter glad and long;
He gives us tears as pure;
He shames us with the published wrong
We meted to the poor.
Through webs and dust and weather-stains,
His sunlike genius paints,
On life's transfigured chancel-panes,
The angels and the saints.
He bade us to a lordly feast,
And gave us of his best;
And vanished, while the mirth increased,
To be Another's guest.
For Death had summoned him, in haste,
Where hands of the Divine
Pour out, for him who toiled to taste,
The Paradisal wine.
Well, God be thanked, we did not wait
His greatness to discern
By funeral lights, in that Too-Late
When ashes fill the urn.
Mary Hannay Foott's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (For Charles Dickens by Mary Hannay Foott )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- Beloved, Mouse or Mickey Mouse, Sandra Feldman
- When Destiny Called Out, Danusha Marie
- Bruised My Soul, Lilly Emery
- aliens different to my norm, lee fones
- MY SITUATION IS MY REMINDER OF MY MYSELF.., MOHAMMAD SKATI
- We will take our fires..., Marshall Gass
- Seed Pod, Marshall Gass
- Changeover, Marshall Gass
- Together Forever, Maureen Alikor
- [ Its winter here and clutching at warmt.., Marshall Gass