A Life

He walked 'midst shadows, and he nursed at heart
A grief that set strange poison in his blood;
He lived, and was of no man understood.
In all glad things that be he had no part;
And wearily he turned unto his art.
But of his labor had he little good.
Comfort he sought in cheerless solitude;
But visionary faces made him start.

Wrong things he did, was quick of thought and speech,
For grievous sin had grievous punishment;
Missed Love, missed Fame, both once within his reach.
Nor might succeed in any high intent;
And when he died had on his monument:
"All that Life taught him, Lord, let Death unteach."