Silence was envious of the only voice
That mightier seemed than she. So, cloaked as Death,
With potion borrowed from Oblivion,
Yet with slow step and tear-averted look,
She sealed his lips, closed his extinguished eyes,
And, veiling him with darkness, deemed him dead.
But no!—There ’s something vital in the great
That blunts the edge of...
-
-
When, stricken by the freezing blast,
A nation’s living pillars fall,
How rich the storied page, how vast,
A word, a whisper, can recall!No medal lifts its fretted face,
Nor speaking marble cheats your eye;
Yet, while these pictured lines I trace,
A living image passes by:A roof beneath the mountain pines;
... -
"When I and all those that hear me shall have gone to our last home, and
when the mould may have gathered on our memories, as it will on our
tombs:" -- Webster's Speech in the Senate, July, 1850.
The mould upon thy memory! -- No,
Not while one note is rung,
...