In Memoriam Poem by Jean Blewett

The Golden Rule-the blessed creed
That shelters frail humanity,
The tender thought for those in need,
The charity of word and deed,
Without which all is vanity-

This, friend, you made your very own,
And yours the satisfying part
To pluck the rose of love full blown,
To reap the gladness you had sown
With open hand and kindly heart.

Simplicity, the jewel rare,
Whose gleam is ever true and warm-
That thing of worth beyond compare
Which none but truly great may wear-
Adorned your life with power and charm.

Yours the sincerity that grips
Fast hold of natures strong and wise;
It thrilled you to your finger-tips,
It set its seal on brow and lips,
And shone within your dark, true eyes.

The throng knew not how rich the store
Of sympathy and trust you had;
Knew not you were, till life was o'er,
God's almoner among His poor,
God's comforter to sick and sad.

Too soon you went-we miss the cheer,
The kindliness vouchsafed to all;
The world seems strangely lone and drear
When one whom many hearts hold dear
Fares heavenward ere the shadows fall.

Too soon you went, and yet, maybe,
Your work well done, your task complete,
The soul of you turned longingly
Toward gates of pearl and jasper sea
And fields of Eden rarely sweet.