forgotten. With hammer blows he reiterated his teaching until he compelled the heedless to hear. He had a noble message nobly delivered: he had command of wit, of learning, of persuasion.
As a poet his voice fell silent far too soon. He was not a lyrical poet: composers would not select his verses as perfect in rhythm for setting to music; but they had serene depths of sincerity and a lucidity of thought which marked them out from the wordy beauty of others who perhaps for the time enjoyed greater popularity. He will take his place as one of the greatest poets of this century; beside Wordsworth, with whom he had much in common, to whom he was in some respects—certainly as regard balance and symmetry—immeasurably superior. Lord Beaconsfield once remarked that he was the only living Englishman who had become a classic in his lifetime. "Sohrab," "Balder Dead," "Tristram and Iseult," "The Strayed Reveller," "The Forsaken Merman," "Philomela," "A Summer Night," "Dover Beach," or "Rugby Chapel" are not likely to be forgotten so long as the English tongue is read. As a man, judged by the testimony of his friends and the sincerity of his letters, he was lovable, simple, honest, straightforward, and kind.
Boston, January, 1897.
