His heart was open as the day,
His feelings all were true;
His hair was some inclined to gray--
He wore it in a queue.
Whene'er he heard the voice of pain,
His breast with pity burn'd;
The large, round head upon his cane
From ivory was turn'd.
Kind words he ever had for all;
He knew no base design:
His eyes were dark and rather small,
His nose was aquiline.
He lived at peace with all mankind,
In friendship he was true;
His coat had pocket-holes behind,
His pantaloons were blue.
Unharm'd, the sin which earth pollutes
He pass'd securely o'er,
And never wore a pair of boots
For thirty years or more.
But good old Grimes is now at rest,
Nor fears misfortune's frown:
He wore a double-breasted vest--
The stripes ran up and down.
He modest merit sought to find,
And pay it its desert:
He had no malice in his mind,
No ruffles on his shirt.
His neighbors he did not abuse--
Was sociable and gay:
He wore large buckles on his shoes,
And changed them every day.
His knowledge hid from public gaze,
He did not bring to view,
Nor made a noise town-meeting days,
As many people do.
His worldly goods he never threw
In trust to fortune's chances,
But lived (as all his brothers do)
In easy circumstances.
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