Devotion! When thy name is named, What matchless visions rise! The Hebrew, leaving Pharoah's house, To Israel's rescue flies; The Moabitess, gleans, content, Beneath the burning skies. ...
Thou art sleeping, brother, sleeping In thy lonely battle grave; Shadows o'er the past are creeping, Death, the reaper, still is reaping, Years have swept, and years are sweeping...
I mourn upon this battle-field, But not for those who perished here. Behold the river-bank Whither the angry farmers came, In sloven dress and broken rank, Nor thought of fame. Their deed of blood...
Hail and Farewell, dear Brother of the Pen, Maker of sunshine for the minds of men, Lord of bright cheer and master of our hearts - What plaint is fit when such a friend departs?...
He has gone to his grave in the strength of youth, While life shone bright before him; And we, who remember his worth and truth, Stand vainly grieving o'er him. ...