 A Picture by S.R. Gifford, and owned by E.B.
All feeling hearts must feel for him
Who felt this picture. Presage dim—
Dim inklings from the shadowy sphere
Fixed him and fascinated here.
A demon-cloud like the mountain one
Burst on a spirit as mild
As this urned lake, the home of shades.
But Shakspeare's pensive child
Never the lines had lightly scanned,
Steeped in fable, steeped in fate;
The Hamlet in his heart was 'ware,
Such hearts can antedate.
No utter surprise can come to him
Who reaches Shakspeare's core;
That which we seek and shun is there—
Man's final lore.
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