. Lyrics from a library . B» 22. On Goldsmiths grave to-dayI found a wreath of bay,Laid by some loving hand; whose, nonemay say. Though since he ceased to be The surge of Times great sea Has swept unceasing, green his memory t For through his limpid lines,Unfailing, one divinesA humorous tenderness that sings andshines. Twas his unconscious partTo touch the human heartWith a fine feeling that is more than art. So, where his bones repose In the gray Temple-close, Shall mingle laurel, ivy and the rose!

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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidlyricsfromli, bookyear1913