GARLANDS upon his grave | |
| And flowers upon his hearse, | |
| And to the tender heart and brave | |
| The tribute of this verse. | |
| |
| His was the troubled life, | 5 |
| The conflict and the pain, | |
| The grief, the bitterness of strife, | |
| The honor without stain. | |
| |
| Like Winkelried, he took | |
| Into his manly breast | 10 |
| The sheaf of hostile spears, and broke | |
| A path for the oppressed. | |
| |
| Then from the fatal field | |
| Upon a nation’s heart | |
| Borne like a warrior on his shield!— | 15 |
| So should the brave depart. | |
| |
| Death takes us by surprise, | |
| And stays our hurrying feet; | |
| The great design unfinished lies, | |
| Our lives are incomplete. | 20 |
| |
| But in the dark unknown | |
| Perfect their circles seem, | |
| Even as a bridge’s arch of stone | |
| Is rounded in the stream. | |
| |
| Alike are life and death, | 25 |
| When life in death survives, | |
| And the uninterrupted breath | |
| Inspires a thousand lives. | |
| |
| Were a star quenched on high, | |
| For ages would its light, | 30 |
| Still travelling downward from the sky, | |
| Shine on our mortal sight. | |
| |
| So when a great man dies, | |
| For years beyond our ken, | |
| The light he leaves behind him lies | 35 |
| Upon the paths of men. | |
| |
