Poems (Sill)/Strange
E died at night. Next day they cameTo weep and praise him: sudden fameThese suddenly warm comrades gave.They called him pure, they called him brave;One praised his heart, and one his brain;All said, You'd seek his like in vain,—Gentle, and strong, and good: none sawIn all his character a flaw.
STRANGE.
E died at night. Next day they cameTo weep and praise him: sudden fameThese suddenly warm comrades gave.They called him pure, they called him brave;One praised his heart, and one his brain;All said, You'd seek his like in vain,—Gentle, and strong, and good: none sawIn all his character a flaw.At noon he wakened from his trance,Mended, was well! They looked askance;Took his hand coldly; loved him not,Though they had wept him; quite forgotHis virtues; lent an easy earTo slanderous tongues; professed a fear He was not what he seemed to be;Thanked God they were not such as he;Gave to his hunger stones for bread;And made him, living, wish him dead.