F. W. H.
(A Portrait)
A thick-set, dark-haired, dreamy little man,
Uncouth to see,
Revolving ever this preposterous plan—
Within a web of words spread cunningly
To tangle Life—no less,
(Could he expect success!)
Of Life, he craves not much, except to watch.
Being forced to act,
He walks behind himself, as if to catch
The motive:—an accessory to the fact,
Faintly amused, it seems,
Behind his dreams.
Yet hath he loved the vision of this world,
And found it good:
The Faith, the fight ’neath Freedom’s flag unfurled,
The friends, the fun, the army-brotherhood.
But faery-crazed or worse
He twists it all to verse!