EV'RY tear that is shed by the mourner is holy; When the dust of the mighty to earth is consigned, When those he held dearest move sadly and slowly To the grave of the friend in whose heart they were shrined. But our grief-stricken train is a wild sea that surges, That spreads to yon starry pavilion o'erhead And girdles the globe: for all nature sings dirges, Where'er rings an echo, to-day o'er the dead. But weep not for him: for yourselves sorrow only: Though proud was his place in the hierarchy here, This Earth might not hold him; his spirit was lonely, And yearned for a home in a loftier sphere. So Heaven to the minstrel its portal uncloses; The Muse thither calls him, to sit by her side And hear, from the throne where in bliss she reposes, His own hallow'd harmonies float far and wide. Yet here, in our memories homed, he abideth; Round his name lives a glory that ne'er may grow dim; Time fain would o'ertake him, but time he derideth; The grisly Destroyer is distanced by him. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MAN'S VOCATION IS NOBODY'S BUSINESS by JAMES GALVIN DOMESDAY BOOK: DR. TRACE TO THE CORONER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DILIGENCE IS TO MAGIC AS PROGRESS IS TO FLIGHT by MARIANNE MOORE ASHURNATSIRPAL III by CARL SANDBURG THE UNIVERSITY OF GOTTINGEN by GEORGE CANNING LINCOLN, THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE by EDWIN MARKHAM SEVERUS TO TIBERIUS GREATLY ENNUYE by JOSEPH AUSLANDER THISTLE-DOWN by CLARA DOTY BATES POET FLAYS TEMPTATIONS OF CITY LIFE by MORRIS GILBERT BISHOP |