Personal Poems, Complete

SAMUEL J. TILDEN.

GREYSTONE, AUG. 4, 1886.

     Once more, O all-adjusting Death!
     The nation's Pantheon opens wide;
     Once more a common sorrow saith
     A strong, wise man has died.

     Faults doubtless had he. Had we not
     Our own, to question and asperse
     The worth we doubted or forgot
     Until beside his hearse?

     Ambitious, cautious, yet the man
     To strike down fraud with resolute hand;
     A patriot, if a partisan,
     He loved his native land.

     So let the mourning bells be rung,
     The banner droop its folds half way,
     And while the public pen and tongue
     Their fitting tribute pay,

     Shall we not vow above his bier
     To set our feet on party lies,
     And wound no more a living ear
     With words that Death denies?

     1886