Henry George - A poem by Frederick J. Atwood

Henry George.

Manhattan weeps! O'erwhelmed with bitter grief',
The Greater City bows above the bier
Where lie, all silent, lips whose words sincere
But yesterday made vocal high belief,
High hopes, and high resolves. Then as a thief
Came Death; and that brave heart that knew not fear
Was still. No more, no more, upon that ear
The loud acclaim of thousands for their chief!

An honest man is dead! The world may mourn,
For, of this species not too many live.
He loved his fellow-men unselfishly,
And was beloved by myriads that are worn
And weary with unequal strife^___who give,
With glad surprise, homage to such as he.

^__Frederick J. Atwood.