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To my friend, on his birthday (II)

He who has walked among his fellow-men
This life's rough path for threescore years and ten,
Bearing for others, on the weary way,
The heat and burden of the toilsome day;
Sounding the silvery notes of faith and hope
Whene'er the weak or the despairing droop;
Speaking the words of sympathy and love,
Far the wild discords of the world above;
Raising the fallen, succoring the opprest---
The Holy Graal of unfound good his quest;
Holding aloft, a true and blameless Knight,
The stainless banner of the Just and Right:
He is the Christian hero of to-day,
And at his feet my tribute here I lay.

poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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