FOR THE MEETING OF THE MASSACHUSETTS <br />MEDICAL SOCIETY, 1859 <br /> <br />'T is sweet to fight our battles o'er, <br />And crown with honest praise <br />The gray old chief, who strikes no more <br />The blow of better days. <br /> <br />Before the true and trusted sage <br />With willing hearts we bend, <br />When years have touched with hallowing age <br />Our Master, Guide, and Friend. <br /> <br />For all his manhood's labor past, <br />For love and faith long tried, <br />His age is honored to the last, <br />Though strength and will have died. <br /> <br />But when, untamed by toil and strife, <br />Full in our front he stands, <br />The torch of light, the shield of life, <br />Still lifted in his hands, <br /> <br />No temple, though its walls resound <br />With bursts of ringing cheers, <br />Can hold the honors that surround <br />His manhood's twice-told years!<br /><br />Oliver Wendell Holmes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-gray-chief/
