He gained none of the world’s glory.
He made no fortune,
Ran no large company,
Wrote no best-seller,
Held no great post.
Yet many cried the day he died,
And some of us are tearful yet
As we remember him
When Christmases come back to mind,
And walks around the fields near home.
Through all the later years,
And through all the later days,
When the sun still rose without his gaze,
And without his gaze the sun still set,
We have missed his smile,
His quiet voice
And his gentle ways.