The warm pulse of the nation has grown chill; <br />The muffled heart of Freedom, like a knell, <br />Throbs solemnly for one whose earthly will <br />Wrought every mission well. <br /> <br />Whose glowing reason towered above the sea <br />Of dark disaster like a beacon light, <br />And led the Ship of State, unscathed and free, <br />Out of the gulfs of night. <br /> <br />When Treason, rabid-mouthed, and fanged with steel, <br />Lay growling o'er the bones of fallen braves, <br />And when beneath the tyrant's iron heel <br />Were ground the hearts of slaves, <br /> <br />And War, with all his train of horrors, leapt <br />Across the fortress-walls of Liberty <br />With havoc e'en the marble goddess wept <br />With tears of blood to see. <br /> <br />Throughout it all his brave and kingly mind <br />Kept loyal vigil o'er the patriot's vow, <br />And yet the flag he lifted to the wind <br />Is drooping o'er him now. <br /> <br />And Peace--all pallid from the battle-field <br />When first again it hovered o'er the land <br />And found his voice above it like a shield, <br />Had nestled in his hand. <br /> <br />. . . . . . . . <br /> <br />O throne of State and gilded Senate halls-- <br />Though thousands throng your aisles and galleries-- <br />How empty are ye! and what silence falls <br />On your hilarities! <br /> <br />And yet, though great the loss to us appears, <br />The consolation sweetens all our pain-- <br />Though hushed the voice, through all the coming years <br />Its echoes will remain.<br /><br />James Whitcomb Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/morton-2/
