'Tis held that sorrow makes us wise;
⁠Yet how much wisdom sleeps with thee
⁠Which not alone had guided me,
But served the seasons that may rise;

For can I doubt who knew thee keen
⁠In intellect, with force and skill
⁠To strive, to fashion, to fulfil—
I doubt not what thou wouldst have been:

A life in civic action warm,
⁠A soul on highest mission sent,
⁠A potent voice of Parliament,
A pillar steadfast in the storm,

Should licensed boldness gather force,
⁠Becoming, when the time has birth,
⁠A lever to uplift the earth
And roll it in another course,