Franklin Benjamin Sanborn

  • Sweet saint! whose rising dawned upon the sight
    Like fair Aurora chasing mists away,
    Our ocean billows, and thy western height
    Gave back reflections of the tender ray,
    Sparkling and smiling as night turned to day:—
    Ah! whither vanished that celestial light...

  • A year ago how often did I meet
    Under these elms, once more in sober bloom,
    Thy tall, sad figure pacing down the street,—
    But now the robin sings above thy tomb.
    Thy name on other shores may ne’er be known,
    Though austere Rome no graver Consul knew;...