[Page f.15r (from back of notebook)]
Yes! let the poor afflicted soul
The widow & the orphan mourn!
Their stedfast friend, in death asleep,
Can soothe no more the heart forlorn
His was the candid generous soul –5
The liberal hand, the kinder heart;
And never did a death-bell toll
For one more free from worldly art.
And never was the cry of grief,
Disease, or poverty, or pain10
Or supplication for relief
Addressed to his kind heart in vain.
But ready still, by night or day
Was he the poor man’s prayer to hear,
The sufferer’s anguish to alloy15
The desolate orphans heart to chear
The cherished Friends who knew his work –
By firm esteem to him were bound
[Page 15v]
And gaiety & harmless mirth
In him a kind promoter found.
His long descent – his ancient line –
Too oft in men the cause of pride –
He counted naugh! – his great design5
Was to far nobler thoughts allied.
It was the spread of Christian love
And charity ‘mongst small & great;
His life long aim was to remove
Dissension, enmity, & hate.10
Although a carping few there be
Who slightingly his Merits hold;
Yet hundreds more will say with me
A warmer heart death ne’er made cold.
D Wordsworth. March 3rd 1848
