(In Memoriam : William Greenip (rural postman), a close observer of nature: obiit, November 1st at Keswick.)

GOD sometimes fills a poor man’s patient heart
    With his own reverent love and constant care
    For all the things He hath created fair,—
Birds, flowers, the wings that fly, the fins that dart,—
And therewithal by Nature’s winsome art 
    Leads him to heights of philosophic air
    Where clamour dies, Heaven’s ether is so rare,
And bids him walk with gentleness apart.
Friend! such wert thou: the Newlands valley dew,
    The star o’er Grisedale’s purple head that shone,
        Were not more silent, but each stream and glade,
Each bird that flashed, all dusky moths that flew,
    All flowers held commune with thee.  Thou art gone:
        And Nature mourns the tender heart she made.

(English Lakes Visitor and Keswick Guardian, 22 November 1890, p. 4)