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     One after one shall follow thee
As pilgrims through the gate of fear,
     Which opens on eternity.
Yet shall we cherish not the less
     All that is left our hearts meanwhile;
The memory of thy loveliness
     Shall round our weary pathway smile,
Like moonlight when the sun has set,
     A sweet and tender radiance yet.
Thoughts of thy clear-eyed sense of duty,
     Thy generous scorn of all things wrong,
The truth, the strength, the graceful beauty
     Which blended in thy song.
All lovely things, by thee beloved,
     Shall whisper to our hearts of thee;
These green hills, where thy childhood roved,
     Yon river winding to the sea,
The sunset light of autumn eves
     Reflecting on the deep, still floods,
Cloud, crimson sky, and trembling leaves
     Of rainbow-tinted woods,
These, in our view, shall henceforth take
     A tenderer meaning for thy sake;
And all thou lovedst of earth and sky,
     Seem sacred to thy memory.


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1841 AD (1)
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