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To Mark Twain
by [?]



With memories old and wishes new
We crown our cups again,
And here’s to you, and here’s to you
With love that ne’er shall wane!
And may you keep, at sixty-seven,
The joy of earth, the hope of heaven,
And fame well-earned, and friendship true,
And peace that comforts every pain,
And faith that fights the battle through,
And all your heart’s unbounded wealth,
And all your wit, and all your health,–
Yes, here’s a hearty health to you,
And here’s to you, and here’s to you,
Long life to you, Mark Twain.

November 30, 1902.



We knew you well, dear Yorick of the West,
The very soul of large and friendly jest!
You loved and mocked the broad grotesque of things
In this new world where all the folk are kings.

Your breezy humour cleared the air, with sport
Of shams that haunt the democratic court;
For even where the sovereign people rule,
A human monarch needs a royal fool.

Your native drawl lent flavour to your wit;
Your arrows lingered but they always hit;
Homeric mirth around the circle ran,
But left no wound upon the heart of man.

We knew you kind in trouble, brave in pain;
We saw your honour kept without a stain;
We read this lesson of our Yorick’s years,–
True wisdom comes with laughter and with tears.

November 30, 1910.