Classic Poem

I

Beneath the snow, beneath the daisies,
Beyond all thought of good or ill,
Beyond all blame, beyond all praises,
He sleeps, — whom we remember still;
Remember, honor, and deplore him,
As this our tribute fane may show,
The while our hearts are murm'ring o'er him
" Alas! if he could only know!"

II

He cannot know; the veil of sable,
The dense, impenetrable night,
O'er him has closed, — and all is fable,
Of things beyond our mortal sight!
Yet, we can love, and, having known him, —
That royal soul whom we revere, —
Our faithful hearts may well bemoan him!
Our homage well may crown him here!

III

He cannot know! Its vigil keeping,
Above him waves the solemn pine,
While o'er the sod, where he lies sleeping,
The wild rose and the bramble twine:
High up the curlews dart or cluster;
More near old ocean smiles or weeps;
And he is part of all the lustre
Of Nature's pomp wherein he sleeps.

IV

He lives in morning's wave of splendor;
He lives in evening's pensive gleam;
He lives in memories sweet and tender,
Where roses burn, where violets dream:
His image fills all sacred places, —
A shape that Time can never dim!
In life he hallowed all the graces,
And dead, all graces hallow him!

V

His was the will that never falter'd;
The promise that was always kept;
The stern resolve, that never alter'd;
The vigil heart, that never slept;
The generous wish to scatter blessings;
The purpose of celestial grace,
That has no life save in redressing
The wrongs that curse the human race!

VI

Our worldly schemes full soon are blighted,
Like them we dwindle and decay,
But let this shrine to him be plighted
Whose glory cannot pass away;
With whose pure name forever blended
Virtue and Honor stand secure,
In fame that never can be ended,
And, like that fame, it will endure!