The Patriot Martyr.
61
Those speaking drops, the tears that fall
Unchecked from tender woman's eye,
Nor shame the manliest cheek of all,
Flow, that a friend so loved should die—
While black-draped flag at half-mast hung,
Gives token of a people's grief,
And muffled bells, with mournful tongue,
Toll for the Nation's honored Chief.
Unchecked from tender woman's eye,
Nor shame the manliest cheek of all,
Flow, that a friend so loved should die—
While black-draped flag at half-mast hung,
Gives token of a people's grief,
And muffled bells, with mournful tongue,
Toll for the Nation's honored Chief.
What, though when household forms decay,
The thorns of anguish keener press,
Revealing in the torturing ray
To every heart its bitterness,
Yet, from stern Death's remorseless bow,
Never before was arrow sent
Like this, so fraught with wide-spread woe,
Which martyred our loved President.
The thorns of anguish keener press,
Revealing in the torturing ray
To every heart its bitterness,
Yet, from stern Death's remorseless bow,
Never before was arrow sent
Like this, so fraught with wide-spread woe,
Which martyred our loved President.
Loved by the good and true, his fame
Enshrines itself in every heart
Where honor's uncorrupted name
In simple freshness shares a part—
Loved by the slave, whose stifled prayer
Came sighing up for liberty,
And pleading, gained assurance there,
From one great soul that he was free.
Enshrines itself in every heart
Where honor's uncorrupted name
In simple freshness shares a part—
Loved by the slave, whose stifled prayer
Came sighing up for liberty,
And pleading, gained assurance there,
From one great soul that he was free.
