Yet tears to human suffering are due; And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone. - William Wordsworth

Oh for a single hour of that Dundee Who on that day the word of onset gave!

The monumental pomp of age Was with this goodly personage; A stature undepressed in size, Unbent, which rather seemed to rise In open victory o'er the weight Of seventy years, to loftier height.

But oft, in lonely rooms, and mid the din
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them,
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart,
And passing even into my purer mind
With tranquil restoration; — feelings too
Of unremembered pleasures; such, perhaps,
As have made no trivial influence
On that best portion of a good man's life;
His little, nameless, unremembered acts
Of kindness and of love.