Wail, winds of summer, as ye sweep <br />The arching skies; <br />O, let your echoes swell with deep, <br />Woe-piercing cries! <br /> <br />Old ocean, with a heavy surge, <br />Cold, black and drear, <br />Roll thou the solemn note of dirge <br />On Europe's ear! <br /> <br />Sweet stars, that calmly, purely bright, <br />Look down below, <br />O, pity with your eyes of light <br />A Nation's woe! <br /> <br />Thou source of day, that rollest on <br />Though tempests frown, <br />Thou mind'st us of another sun <br />That has gone down! <br /> <br />Gone down,--no more may mortal eye <br />Its face behold! <br />Gone down,--yet leaving on the sky <br />A tinge of gold! <br /> <br />Ah, yes! Columbia, pause to hear <br />The note of dread; <br />'Twill smite like iron on the ear;-- <br />Our Clay is dead! <br /> <br />Our Clay; the patriot, statesman, sage, <br />The Nation's pride, <br />With giant minds of every age <br />Identified! <br /> <br />That form of manliness and strength <br />In Senate hall, <br />Is lying at a fearful length <br />Beneath the pall! <br /> <br />That voice of eloquence no more <br />Suspends the breath; <br />Its matchless power to charm is o'er-- <br />'Tis hushed in death! <br /> <br />Thrice noble spirit! can we bow, <br />And kiss the rod? <br />With resignation yield thee now <br />Back to thy God? <br /> <br />And where, where shall we turn to find <br />Now thou 'rt at rest, <br />A soul so lofty, just and kind, <br />As warmed thy breast? <br /> <br />We bear thee, with a flood of tears, <br />Unto thy tomb; <br />There thou must sleep till rolling years <br />Have met their doom! <br /> <br />But thy bright fame and memory <br />Shall send a chime <br />From circling ages down to the <br />Remotest time! <br /> <br />O, may thy mantle fall on some <br />Of this our day, <br />And shed upon the years to come <br />A happy ray!<br /><br />Frances Ellen Watkins Harper<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/henry-clay/
