A knightly-priest or priestly-knight wert thou,
Man of the radiant eye and reverent brow;
Chivalry closely knit
With fervent faith in thee indeed were blent;
Thought upon high ideals still intent,
And a most lambent wit.

Serene, though with a power of scathing scorn
For all things mean or base. Sorrow long borne,
Though bowing, soured not thee.
Bereaved, health-broken, still that patient smile
Wreathed the pale lips which never greed or guile
Shaped to hypocrisy.

A saintly-hearted wit, a satirist pure,
Mover of mirth spontaneous as sure,
And innocent as mad;
Incongruous freak and frolic phantasy
Were thy familiar spirits, quickening glee
And wakening laughter glad.

Dainty as _Ariel_, yet as _Puck_ profuse
Of the "preposterous," was that wit, whose use
Was ever held "within
The limits of becoming mirth." His whim
Never shy delicacy's glance could dim,
Or move the cynic grin.

But that fate's hampering hand lay on him long
He might have won in drama and in song