• [Read at the Unveiling of His Statue in Central Park, May, 1877]

    AMONG their graven shapes to whom
      Thy civic wreaths belong,
    O city of his love! make room
      For one whose gift was song.

    Not his the soldier’s sword to wield,
      Nor his the helm of state,
    Nor glory of the stricken field,
      Nor triumph of debate.

    In...

  •           I see the sons of genius rise

                 The nobles of our land,

              And foremost in the gathering ranks

                 I see the poet-band.

              That priesthood of the Beautiful

                 To whom alone 't is given

              To lift our spirits from the dust,
    ...