(Ob. October 30, 1897) He Looked Half-Parson And Half-Skipper: A Quaint, Beautiful Blend, With Blue Eyes Good To See, And Old-World Whiskers. You Found Him Cynic, Saint, Salt, Humourist, Christian, Poet; With A Free, Far-Glancing, Luminous Utterance; And A Heart Large As St. Francis'S: Withal A Brain Stored With Experience, Letters, Fancy, Art, And Scored With Runes Of Human Joy And Pain. Till Six-And-Sixty Years He Used His Gift, His Gift Unparalleled, Of Laughter And Tears, And Left The World A High-Piled, Golden Drift Of Verse: To Grow More Golden With The Years, Till The Great Silence Fallen Upon His Ways Break Into Song, And He That Had Love Have Praise.