And yet, unwittingly, in truth,
They made his careless words their law.

They knew not how he learned at all,
For idly, hour by hour,
He sat and watched the dead leaves fall,
Or mused upon a common flower.

It seemed the loveliness of things
Did teach him all their use,
For, in mere weeds, and stones, and springs,
He found a healing power profuse.

Men granted that his speech was wise,
But, when a glance they caught
Of his slim grace and woman's eyes,
They laughed, and called him good-for-naught.

Yet after he was dead and gone,
And e'en his memory dim,
Earth seemed more sweet to live upon,
More full of love, because of him.

And day by day more holy grew
Each spot where he had trod,
Till after-poets only knew
Their first-born brother as a god.

374

Sir William S. Gilbert (1837-1911), an English
dramatist, is known to us as the librettist of
the popular Gilbert and Sullivan operas, _The
Mikado_, _Pinafore_, etc. In his earlier days
he wrote a book of humorous poetry called _The
Bab Ballads_. Many of these still please
readers who like a little nonsense now and then
of a supremely ridiculous type. "The Yarn of
the Nancy Bell" is a splendid take-off on
"travelers' tales," and is not likely to
deceive anyone. However, Gilbert said that when
he sent the poem to _Punch_, the editor made
objection to its extremely cannibalistic
nature!

THE YARN OF THE NANCY BELL

WILLIAM S. GILBERT

'Twas on the shores that round our coast
From Deal to Ramsgate span,
That I found alone on a piece of stone
An elderly naval man.

His hair was weedy, his beard was long,
And weedy and long was he,
And I heard this wight on the shore recite,
In a singular minor key:

"Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold,
And the mate of the Nancy brig,
And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig."

And he shook his fists and he tore his hair,
Till I really felt afraid,
For I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking,
And so I simply said:

"Oh, elderly man,