An Appreciation
To One
On whose silvered locks lightly rest the crown of fourscore and seven well spent years: A favoured Child of Nature, who has brought to the snows of December the May time spirit. For whom each whispering treetop has a song; to whom each tiny rivulet tells a story, and each flower and stone conveys a message. One who has traversed his country's breadth; who has scaled her lofty summits; who has found rest in her peaceful valleys.
A man of ideals; of high principles; of strong convictions; of warm emotions;
A student; a thinker; a philosopher; a poet, clothing the humble scenes of life with pure imagery and quaint diction.
A Gentleman of the Old School; whose innate courtesy and noble dignity, whose fine culture and keen intelligence place him as a peer among his fellows; yet whose simplicity and kindliness make for him friends among all classes.
To such an One—Our Neighbor, Our Friend; Jonathan E. Hoag—We render this humble tribute.
To Jonathan E. Hoag, Poet
Perchance for woe or shame?"
Life answered: "I have kept for him
A loved and honored name."
My ever-piercing dart?"
Life answered: "I have given him
A strong and faithful heart."
From common doubts and fears?"
Life answered: "He has learned to trust
The promise of the years."
His weary days prolong?"
Life answered: "He has won of me
The sacred gift of song."
"Nay, seek some other prize,"
Said Life, "Thy dart is powerless here;
The poet never dies!"
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