Colin.

Who'll dive for the dead men now,     Since Colin is gone?     Who'll feel for the anguished brow,     Since Colin is gone?     True Feeling is not confined     To the learned or lordly mind;     Nor can it be bought and sold     In exchange for an Alp of gold;     For Nature, that never lies,     Flings back with indignant scorn     The counterfeit deed, still-born,     In the face of the seeming wise,     In the Janus face of the huckster race     Who barter her truths for lies.     Who'll wrestle with dangers dire,     Since Colin is gone?     Who'll fearlessly brave the maniac wave,     Thoughtless of self, human life to save,     Unmoved by the storm-fiend's ire?     Who, Shadrach-like, will walk through fire,     Since Colin is gone?     Or hang his life on so frail a breath     That there's but a step 'twixt life and death?     For Courage is not the heritage     Of the nobly born; and many a sage     Has climbed to the temple of fame,     And written his deathless name     In letters of golden flame,     Who, on glancing down     From his high renown,     Saw his unlettered sire     Still by the old log fire,     Saw the unpolished dame -     And the dunghill from which he came.     Ah, ye who judge the dead     By the outward lives they led,     And not by the hidden worth     Which none but God can see;     Ye who would spurn the earth     That covers such as he;     Would ye but bare your hearts,     Cease to play borrowed parts,     And come down from your self-built throne:     How few from their house of glass,     As the gibbering secrets pass,     Would dare to fling, whether serf or king,     The first accusing stone!     Peace, peace to his harmless dust!     Since Colin is gone;     We can but hope and trust;     Man judgeth, but God is just;     Poor Colin is gone!     Had he faults?    His heart was true,     And warm as the summer's sun.     Had he failings?    Ay, but few;     'Twas an honest race he run.     Let him rest in the poor man's grave,     Ye who grant him no higher goal;     There may be a curse on the hands that gave,     But not on his simple soul!