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102
James Russell Lowell.
AUGUST 12TH, 1891.
Lowell is dead! a gold link snapt and gone
That bound the Mother to the Daughter-land.
Lowell is dead! I hear upon the strand
The mourning of two nations joined as one
Mixed with the drear Atlantic's monotone.
For who will touch the harp with lighter hand,
And who in time of tyrannous hate shall stand
And sing back Truth and Freedom to their throne?
That bound the Mother to the Daughter-land.
Lowell is dead! I hear upon the strand
The mourning of two nations joined as one
Mixed with the drear Atlantic's monotone.
For who will touch the harp with lighter hand,
And who in time of tyrannous hate shall stand
And sing back Truth and Freedom to their throne?
Oh! Stars that after dimness bless the night,
Stripes rent, and with a people's heart-blood healed,
Blow still mast-high, your poet speaks no more.
But though this stroke of death has wounded sore
The common heart to which his heart appealed,
Above our heads his star of Love is bright.
Stripes rent, and with a people's heart-blood healed,
Blow still mast-high, your poet speaks no more.
But though this stroke of death has wounded sore
The common heart to which his heart appealed,
Above our heads his star of Love is bright.
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