A Most Remarkable Gentleman

There dwelt a man of noble air, Of polished boot and shining hair, Whose greatest gift, as all could see, Was wisdom wed to courtesy. He entered rooms with gentle tread, With quiet grace and lowered head; But though he claimed no wish to shine, The room grew brighter for the time. “I seek no praise,” he oft would say, And turned the kindly words away; For though he valued every grace, He wore no pride upon his face. He spoke of battles never fought, Of wisdom gathered, lessons taught; And he, though never held a blade, Divined precise how war was made. He offered counsel, vast and wide, To captains, kings, and those who died; And men who came to seek his view Were given more than they thought true. He knew the law, though never read; Knew medicine, though never bled; Could mend a ship, could cure a plague, Could build a bridge or train a stag. The baker asked him how to knead; The gardener how to grow a seed; The doctor sought his healing art; The tailor begged his thoughts on heart. When questioned on his many gifts, He answered not with pride or lift; “An error, dear, you must forgive. I never sought the life I live.” The years went by. The seasons turned. The candles dimmed. The hearths yet burned. And still he walked beneath the sun, Refusing praise for deeds undone. At last he reached the gates above, And knocked as one long known and loved. Saint Peter read the list and sighed: “Good sir, no fault appears besides…” The gentleman appeared aglow. “Then surely heaven calls me so?” “Not quite…” the Saint began with care. “An error, dear…” came his repair. Saint Peter smiled. “And there it is again.”