Frederick William (FW) Harvey (26 March 1888 – 13 February 1957 / Hartpury, Gloucestershire)
Dear, rash, warm-hearted friend.
So careless of the end,
So worldly-foolish, so divinely-wise,
Who, caring not one jot
For place, gave all you'd got
To help your lesser fellow-men to rise.
Swift-footed, fleeter yet
Of heart. Swift to forget
The petty spite that life or men could show you :
Your last long race is won.
But beyond the sound of gun
You laugh and help men onward — if I know you.
Oh still you laugh, and walk,
And sing and frankly talk
(To angels) of the matters that amused you
In this bitter-sweet of life,
And we who keep its strife,
Take comfort in the thought how God has used
Comments about this poem (To R.E.K. by Frederick William (FW) Harvey )
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