A great soul gone! Through many a long hard day
He fought for God and England. Many a soul
He led to Christ's beneficent control:
His heart grew tenderer, as his hair waxed grey
Yet not to me the Durham towers convey
His inmost spirit's thought. My heart goes back
And gathers blossoms on that earlier track
Where Harrow fields watch Harrow toil and play

There first I knew and loved,—to know was ever
To love,—the soul of Westcott, most divine
When most he stooped, with manliest pure endeavour
To lead the thoughts of boyhood line by line
Along the road of faith. Death cannot sever
The golden thread that links his heart to mine