A Man From The North Poem by Jan Struther

Here lies a man, from common clay descended,
Who took the common people of the clay
And from their lives, of grime and greatness blended,
Created Life that shall not pass away.
Here lies a child who penned with childish pleasure
The pageantry before his eyes unfurled,
The pomps and shows, the luxury and leisure,
The gauds and glitter of the rich man's world;
Yet still could sing, with sympathy unblunted,
With understanding welded doubly sure,
The saga of the straitened and the stunted,
The patience and the pathos of the poor.
Here lies a sage who saw in things material
The outward workings of some cosmic plan-
Each day a chapter in some breathless serial
Written by Fate for the delight of Man.
Here lies a jester with a sense of duty,
A master-craftsman in his craft engrossed,
A steadfast friend, a worshipper of beauty,
A kindly critic and a perfect host.
Here lies, in fine, a connoisseur of living
For whom adventure lurked in every breath;
Shall not his soul go forth without misgiving
To greet the Great Adventure which is Death?