Page:Lyrics of Life, Coates, 1909.djvu/115



ferns and mosses brown,

From the little mountain-town,

Through the driving rain they bore him,

Kearsarge frowning down:

Onward bore him, wrapped from sight

Under palms and blossoms white,—

While the grieving hearts of thousands

Followed through the night

To that grave, love-sanctified,

Where, in the full summer-tide,

Low they laid him, who had cherished

Sympathies world-wide.

Honored grave! Yet Azrael's dart

Only slays the mortal part,

And they die not who have written

On the human heart.

Sad Roumania, far Peking,

East with West, his praise to sing

Who deemed justice more than power,

Hither tribute bring;